


Coffee Whiskers

by AphroditeB00w



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Cafe AU, Cat Cafe, Fluff, I'm bad at tags, M/M, Otabek is a baker, Yuri is a cafe owner, biker baker beka, cute af, just cute, romance sort of, so many cats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-10-29 02:06:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10844259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AphroditeB00w/pseuds/AphroditeB00w
Summary: Yuri Pisetsky is living his dream as owner of the cat cafe Coffee Whiskers. One day, when his baked good supplier dies, his friend Phichit refers him to a new Baker around, called Otabek Altin.It;s a cute little AU. I love cats and I love this ship. This is for Eclair, you little cinnamon roll you.





	1. The Cat cafe on the corner

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tuples](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuples/gifts).



“The only thing though,” Pichit said, pouting at his phone while speaking to Yuri, “he doesn’t date clients. Boo.”

Yuri rolled his eyes, and lifted Oreo off his accounts books. “Oh my god Pichit, you already tried asking him out?”

“You haven’t seen him.” Pichit’s beetle black eyes sparkled with teenage lust that sit well in his youthful face. “Makes my ovaries sit up and beg.”

“You don’t have ovaries.” Yuri reprimanded half-heartedly. Pichit waved him off.

“Obviously not, but I can’t say, ‘ _makes my gonads sit up and beg_.’ That just sounds weird.”

“Sure.” Yuri grumbled. “ _That’s_ the weird part.”

Pichit’s pushed himself off the counter with an overly dramatic sigh. “I suppose I’ll go open up.”

“Yes, since earning money is a good thing.” Yuri agreed, quickly catching the glass that Pumpkin had experimentally shoved of the counter. Pichit reversed backwards, waving with his phone.

“See ya later, neighbour.”

“Thanks for the contact.” Yuri called back without looking and went to fill the bowls, his feline family meowing and wreathing themselves around his ankles. The bag of cat-chow he’d just bought was still too heavy for him to lift, but he could drag it along, filling the bowls with one cup each.

“Yeah yeah,” he grumbled fondly. “You would swear you’d been starving for days instead of hours. Oreo, get your head out of Crunchy’s bowl.” He nudged the black and white calico with his food, forcing him over to his own bowl. “You’re already fat.”

Once nine bowls had been filled and the shop was blessedly quiet for the short time it would take for the cats to stuff their faces, Yuri went to change the sign on the outer door from ‘closed’ to ‘open’, announcing that. Biscuit followed him, always more fond of company than food, which was why he was so small and skinny. But his pale ginger fur was glossy and his teeth good, so Yuri didn’t worry. He glanced at the cat, tapped his shoulder and held still while Biscuit lithely clawed his way up to perch there.

“So, we need a new baker since the other one up and died.” He spoke to Biscuit, who had draped his warm body over Yuri’s shoulders like a silk scarf, purring. “Pity he was decent. You liked his croissants, freak cat that you are.”

Yuri came around the staff side of the counter and picked up the card Pichit had given him. This was the baker that supplied Pichit patisserie, so it should be easy enough to have him provide for the Cat Café next door to it. He could cook, but people wanted cake with their coffee, not soup and toast.

He dialled the number, and tried to shoo Biscuit away from playing with the little bell token that hung from it when Yuri brought it to his ear.

“Stop that.” He admonished, as the line picked up.

“Uh, you called me.” a heavier voice replied.

“Oh shit, not you.” Yuri quickly covered. “My cat. He’s playing with the bell.”

“The bell?” the man’s voice echoed, sounding confused.

“On my phone.” Yuri explained, giving himself a high five to the forehead. “Starting again, I was looking for someone called…Otabek Altin?”

“That’s me.” the man replied, some vague amusement in his voice.

“Of course it is.” Yuri sighed to himself. Having nine cats around you all the time meant almost never having a normal conversation. Especially with strangers. “This is, uh, Yuri Plisetsky. I’m the owner at Coffee Whiskers.”

“The cat café?” the recognition was instant, which pleased him. “Next to Bakin’ Haven.”

Yuri surprised a derisive snort at the stupid name Pichit had chosen. The place didn’t even _serve_ bacon. “Yes. My friend is the owner there and he mentioned that you supply his baked goods. My baker sort of, just died, so I’m in need of a new one.”

“What did he die of?”

Yuri paused, nonplussed. What kind of question was that? “I don’t know…I think it was old age.”

“Hm.” Mr Altin replied. “Ok, so you need a new baker?”

Yuri regained his momentum. “Yes. Soon. Very soon. Today maybe?”

“Well, “the man mused. “I don’t know about today. But from tomorrow sure. If you give me your email address, I can send you an order list so I know what to make up.”

“Sure thing,” Yuri huffed, absently stroking Crookshanks fur as he barrelled his round belly up on the counter, a black cat with a single tip of white at nose and tail. “It’s c-o-f-f“

“I can’t hear you over the bell.”

Yuri batted at Biscuits paws again and gave him a useless glare. “Sorry. I don’t even hear it. It’s like the shop name, [coffeewhiskers@hotmail.com](mailto:coffeewhiskers@hotmail.com).”

“Hotmail?” this time Mr Altin didn’t even try to hide his amusement.

“It was a good idea at the time, alright.” Yuri replied testily, having heard this from several people already.

“I didn’t say anything. “

“I can hear you smirking through the phone.”

The only response was a low chuckle. “Alright, I’ve sent the mail. Should be coming through.”

“Great. “Yuri drew breath and saw his first customer arrive, a man he knew well. Older and grey, glasses and definite fondness for cats. Ashes liked him best, and liked to simply sit, stroke his fur and read his newspaper for half an hour. “Thank you, Mr Altin. I’ll send it as soon as I can.”

“I’ll be waiting.” He replied, sounding like he was talking through a smile. “Call me Otabek.”

Yuri’s finger had already hung up the phone but he thought that was a sort of odd thing to say. But then again, all his customers called him Yuri, so.

“Mr Agers.” Yuri greeted, turning his happy to see you customer smile on and facing the old man. “Early today?”

“I have a meeting later, and I wanted to have a coffee with Ashes first.” The man replied, his pale green eyes sparkling happily behind his round glasses. On demand, the smoky coloured cat missing his left ear and a significant amount of tail leapt on to the counter, landing on Crookshanks. The fat black cat didn’t seem to mind, he simply blinked his eyes sleepily and carried on as if nothing happened. Ashes, however, went straight up to Mr Agers and head-butted his chest.

“He’s going to get cat hair all over you.” Yuri said, dipping his hand into the drawer by his knees and coming up with a lint roller. “Keep this for when you leave again.”

MR Agers took the roller, but his attention was on Ashes, a wide, long fingered hand curving over his small skull and pushing his ears flat, just the way the cat preferred. He was by far Yuri’s most ‘broken’ rescue, he’d had a host of diseased fighting each other for real estate on his body when Yuri found him. But in spite of the missing ear, and tail, he’d pushed through and become one of the most affectionate, friendly of his little fur family.

“You know why I like him so much?” Mr Agers asked Yuri.

“I know he likes you because you feed him bacon when you think I’m not looking. “ Yuri replied, leaning his elbows on the counter top, giving the man a shrewd look. Mr Agers had the decency to look vaguely embarrassed.

“Well, I like him because he reminds me of my self. Or at least, how I want to be.”

Yuri didn’t reply, unwilling to interrupt the man’s musings, face open and listening. But the old man suddenly seemed to withdraw into himself.

“I just like that he is so…vital. After everything he’s been through.” He finished off.

“He is.” Yuri replied gently, sensing that a raw never had been unintentionally exposed. “I’ll make your coffee. But I’ll have to get your croissant from next door.”

“fine fine.” The man replied, retreating to his usual table, ashes close on his heels. He had barely set his briefcase and newspaper down, when the smoky coloured feline had leapt into his lap. Yuri let it be.

This was why he loved his job. The cats weren’t just cats. The kind of people who came into his shop were _cat-lovers._ The kind that understood about cat fur and general mercurial cat behaviour. Well mostly. But when there was a genuine connection between his cats and others, it was something true and special.

He made the coffee, and slipped out to Bakin’ Haven for his day’s needs.

 


	2. Cat-nips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otabek knows how to bake. He really does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh this is fun.

Yuri was tying his hair back when he heard the sound of a heavy truck pull up around the back. That would be the baker. Otabek? Since morning deliveries were normal, he had left the door open, waiting for cat food and merch too, but he still rushed a little. Meeting one’s new suppliers and developing a good relationship from the start was always a good thing, and besides, he sort of felt the needed to show he wasn’t the hot mess he sounded like on the phone the day before.

He was just pushing the double swing door inwards when he saw a catastrophe in progress, pun unintended. Even as Yuri walked into the kitchenette, and saw a large man reversing into it holding a pile of boxes in his arms, he also saw Quincy and Oreo at his feet, thinking he was the cat food guy. But unlike the cat food guy, this man was not prepared for cats underfoot, thinking that if you just annoyed humans enough they would give you more food.

“Shit!” Yuri exclaimed, holding a hand out though the man wasn’t even looking his way. “Just hold on-“

“What?” The man did turn but it was too late. His foot knocked against Quincy, who yowled like banshee and dashed away, but the damage was done. The baker twisted, overbalanced and Yuri arrived just in time to see him fall flat on the floor, the boxes of pastries scattered around him.

“Shit.” Yuri sighed, standing above the man. “Are you ok?”

Some powdered sugar donuts had fallen across his chest and dusted his chin with white, but dark grey eyes looked up to his, cleared from shock. “What just happened?”

“You tripped over Quincy.” Yuri explained, still gazing down. Hmm, yes. Pichit had a point. The man was a sketch in darker shades; dark hair, dark eyes, olive toned skin, couple with a grey shirt that had ‘Beka Bakes’ on it in white script. And, well, he was cute. No, not cute…that implied baby turtles and teenage crushes. More like…Yuri shook his head.

 _Focus, idiot, the man just took a dive into your floor_.

He held a hand out and the man asked, “What a Quincy?”

“Quincy is my almost-Siamese.” Yuri informed him as he helped the guy to his feet. Huh, tall too. Taller by at least a head.

Beka bakes managed to look genuinely concerned through a layer of white sugar on his face. “Is he ok? I didn’t see him, but he sounded…upset. Did I step on him?”

Yuri shook his head, “No, he always sounds like that. Acts like a football player at the slightest nudge. He’s probably scowling at us from behind the fridge now.” Yuri looked regretfully at the pastry strewn floor. “They thought you were the cat food guy.”

Altin seemed to notice the mess for the first time, and his hands paused in their patting of his shirt. “Oh no…”

Yuri sighed again. “It’s ok. The bread is still usable, so I can make sandwiches. Um, and I can buy some of Pichit’s off him. Let me just get your money…”

But Yuri was halted when a soft, warm hand caught his elbow. He turned back, startled, to grey eyes full of remorse.

“No way are you paying me. This was my fault.”

“You still did the labour. And it wasn’t your fault, it was my homicidal cat’s fault.” Yuri pointed out.

“Still,” Altin shook his head. “This is the worst first impression. I can’t make you pay for it.”

“Better than my first impression.” Yuri said with a half-smile.

Altin seemed to relax a little and let his arm go, leaving the skin there feeling cool. “You mean the phone call? I thought it was cute.”

A completely surprised blush rose on Yuri’s cheeks then, making them hot and Yuri suddenly realised that this baker was hot and was staring at him with a crooked smile and a shirt that was very well fitted to his broad chest.

“Uh, anyway,” Yuri said, tongue suddenly stupid. “I um. Yes. Sorry about the cat. And the wasted pastries.”

“It’s ok…I guess.” Altin replied rubbing his head, darting Yuri a shy look. “But it wasn’t a total waste. I got to meet you in person.”

The blush was stubbornly still present on his face, and he hid it by starting to clean up the scattered food, dumping it back into boxes. “Um, ok. It’s good to meet clients face to face.”

“Yeah, that too.” He heard the reply and sense rather than saw the man kneel down beside him to help with the clean-up.

Thankfully, his cats came to his rescue. “Oreo, stop it to disgusting feline. I said _stop_.” Yuri leaned forward to nudge Oreo away from the jam donuts, where he was lapping it up like milk. “I’ll feed you in a sec.”

Altin watched fascinated. “I didn’t know cats liked pastries.”

“Not all cats.” Yuri told him, sweeping an arm to gather up as much as possible and scooping it into the box he held, uncaring that he got his sleeve pull of white powder. “Just Oreo and Simba. The others prefer normal cat things.”

Yuri left to fish the broom from it place near the fridge and caught sight of Quincy glaring at him from the corner. _‘This is your fault, idiot_.’ He whispered before returning.

“What are ‘normal cat things’?”

Yuri shrugged, sweeping up sugar and dust. “Bacon bits, tuna, milk, catnip. That kind of thing. Although it’s not that unusual for some cats to enjoy other stuff.”

Altin pointed at the black and white cat who hovered hopefully a distance away. “Like…Oreo?”

Yuri grinned. “Yeah. I think he’s just greedy though. He eats bread too. And corn, bizarrely.”

“Corn?”

“From the cob.”

He realised then that Otabek was grinning back like he found it just as interesting as Yuri made it sound, and it was a silly little bubble of a moment that didn’t make sense. Was this guy really this friendly?

Either way, he could take his friendliness somewhere else. Yuri didn’t need weird casual, not-actually-flirting from cute guys in his life. Mercifully, the front bell chimed, signalling a customer. He set the broom against the wall quickly.

“I have to go. Don’t worry about this, I’ll get to it later.” He said, motioning to the floor as he made a hasty way back to the front of shop.

“Are you sure?” Otabek asked, and Yuri fancied he might have sounded very gently disappointed.

“Yes, it’s really ok.” Yuri waved him off, half out of the door already. “Just close the back door behind you? So the cats don’t get out.”

“I’ll make this up to you!” Yuri heard behind him.

“It’s really fine!” he called back but let the door swing closed behind him. He took a quick second to compose himself then stepped out onto the floor.

“Good Morning.” He said with a wide smile. “Have you been to a cat café before?”

 

-8-

 

Sometimes, at the end of a long day on your feet, sitting down feels like a significant luxury. Even with special posturepedic shoes Yuri had bought specifically designed for waiters and nurses, his legs ached a little, and his ass hugged the pillow like they were long lost friends. It was hard being both owner and server, even though the shop was a hole in the wall sized place, but it was worth it ultimately, being his own boss and not being responsible for anyone else’s pay cheque.

He still felt vaguely niggling guilt about not paying the baker for his labour, which had regretfully being dumped into the trash and a lid placed firmly on it to stop Oreo from getting into it. But everything had happened so quickly he hadn’t been able to push the issue. And then there was…the distraction. Phichit had warned him, but he hadn’t realised this was the guy of guy who had the annoying feature of getting hotter every time you looked at him. Like your hormones were noticing new things to admire. And then there was his extremely friendly nature…that was it. Not flirting, at all. He didn’t date clients. So obviously couldn’t have been making interested eyes at Yuri.

Still, it was a little bit of a shame.

He propped his legs up on the stool opposite, letting his heads fall back and lift from his neck. It was dark out and the shop needed closing and the cats needed feeding but he could have four damn seconds. Burgundy took immediate advantage and leapt into his lap. Yuri let his hand rest in his overly bushy fur, absently feeling to tangles and burrs. Burgundy was another pavement special, but he had enough Persian in him to need almost daily grooming.

He regretted his reprieve an instant later when he heard the front door chime a customer’s arrival.

“I’m sorry but if the sun is down we are closed.” He said as he lifted his head with effort. “But we open at… oh.”

Altin had a box in one hand and waved with the other, a half smile folding his one cheek. “Hi.”

Yuri lifted a mirroring hand, puzzled, and waved. “Hi.”

Altin was still in his ‘Beka Bakes’ shirt, but a leather bomber over it made it look as badass as a powder stained tee could. He chuckled a little awkwardly and held up the box. “I brought you an apology for this morning.”

Yuri pushed himself to his feet, thinking it was rude to stay seated, but also needing to move suddenly. “You know, I really didn’t mind. We both came off the worse, kind of. You didn’t need to do this.”

Altin’s smile was infectious. “I wanted to.”

Yuri grinned and shrugged. “If you insist. Free food is always good.”

This time, Altin’s smile became mischievous. “Oh, it’s not for you.”

Yuri paused as he was pushing chairs under tables. “Oh?”

He leaned forward conspiratorially. “It’s for the cats.”

Now Yuri was more intrigued, not just by Altin’s sneaky look. “I know you saw Oreo eating pastry but it’s really not good for them, you know.”

Altin shook his head and laid the box on the table between them, and started opening it. “This isn’t pastry. Well, it’s pastry for cats. I looked up a recipe online, so it’s all cat safe ingredients.” He turned the open bow around so Yuri could see inside. “These are catnip cookies.”

Yuri stared. Inside the box was a pile of discs, about the size of a fingernail and the colour of spinach. “You’re kidding.”

Altin nodded to himself. “I’m kind of impressed with myself actually. I’ve never baked for cats before.”

Yuri picked one up and gave it a sniff. It had a sort of vaguely salty smell. “What’s in it?”

Altin rattled off a list of ingredients that Yuri confirmed were safe. “That’s…really nice of you. Did you go and bake these today?”

Altin shrugged. “It’s a small thing. I wanted to. And besides I like challenging myself.”

Yuri raised an eyebrow at him. “Well don’t get too cocky. Your intended audience hasn’t tried them yet.”

Altin met him smirk for smirk. “Well, can we?”

“Sure.” Yuri answered, picking up the box and leading the way to the kitchen where the cat bowls lived. “This way Mr Altin.”

“You should call me Otabek.” The man requested behind him.

“Um, ok. Otabek.” Yuri stumbled a little, but hoping it was hidden by the act of passing through the swing door.

When they got there, he turned on the light, to find five of them already waiting, unashamedly expectant. As soon as they saw Yuri it started the cacophony of mewling Yuri was used to, and some started head butting his ankles insistently.

“Whoa.” Altin, _no Otabek_ , said.

“Yeah.” Yuri replied understandingly as he started filling bowls with kibble. He knew how overwhelming feeding time could be. “Just let them eat first so they calm down.”

“How many do you have?”

“Nine.”

When all nine were eagerly crunching away through their food, and Yuri had shifted them as they should be, making sure that Simba wasn’t eating Burgundies special anti-fur ball food, he stepped back and set to tidying up the work space he’d left in a mess. There hadn’t been much demand for sandwiches, but his own lunch was always made quickly on the fly, and he usually left the butter out of the fridge, and the knife on the cutting board. Of course by now it already been licked clean of any residual butter.

“What are their names?” Otabek asked. Yuri turned to see that same open interest, like he genuinely cared about what his cat’s names were.

“You want to know all nine of their names?” Yuri asked with a laugh, sliding the bread bin lid closed.

“Sure, why not?”

Yuri gauged Otabek’s face for any teasing, but couldn’t find any. He turned to the temporarily lined up cats. “Alright, since is the only time you’ll see them all in one place. You know Oreo; the salt and pepper calico. Then there’s Biscuit; he’s not a kitten, he’s just small. Ashes; he is possibly Burmese, I’ll never know but he’s the one you want if you’re looking for a cuddle. Crookshanks-“

“Is a harry potter reference?” Otabek interjected and Yuri raised an impressed eyebrow.

“Well done.”

“But he isn’t orange?”

Yuri snickered. “No, but he’s a trouble maker, just the book version. Also, he is a she. Then there is Crunchy; because he makes _that_ noise when he eats. Then Burgundy; because of his eyes not his fur. Simba; and I didn’t name him that but he loves his belly rubbed if you can believe it. Quincy; the loud mouth you met this morning. And Pork.”

When the little darkly furred tabby heard his name, his sat up looking at Yuri with the widest eyes. They were adorable but he was very prone to eye infections. Still, right then he was healthy and happily licking clean his lips.

“Pork?” Otabek said into the silence.

Yuri sighed. “I didn’t name him either. My cousin did. His full name is Pork Cutlet Bowl, and he adopted him as a gift for his husband, who turned out to be violently allergic to cats. So I took him in. the name stuck and got shortened to Pork.”

“Uh huh.” Otabek nodded, bemused but saying nothing else about it. Yuri figured it was a good time to test out the goods. He took a handful of the catnip cookies and went to the bowls, dropping a few in each. Then he retreated next to Otabek to watch.

Oreo was an easy sell, didn’t even pause between finishing off his meal and eating the snack. There were varying degrees of cautious sniffing and experimental licking but after a minute, every single cookie had been eaten. Yuri was impressed.

“Wow. That’s a real compliment. All of them ate it. And they weren’t even starving.”

“Told you I was good at what I do. “ Otabek said, nudging Yuri lightly with his elbow. The contact sent a bloom of warmth through Yuri’s side.

“If I had denied it before, I would have changed my tune now.” Yuri laughed, pitch a little too high, quickly stepping away and closing the lid of the box. “I’ll hide the rest of these in the fridge though. Too much of a good thing, etc.…”

“Is there anything you would like?” Otabek asked behind him.

“Um, not really. I don’t actually like sweets.”

“Baking covers a wide range of tastes you know.” Otabek chuckled.

Yuri found his courage again and turned back with a smile. “It’s ok. These were enough. A genius idea though, you could sell them.”

“You could sell them here, in your shop.”

“I could.” Yuri agreed, then wondered what exactly he was agreeing to.

There descended a weird sort of silence then, where Otabek still grinned at Yuri like he was hearing some internal joke, and Yuri watched, mystified. This guy was too cute to be on the loose.

“Anyway, I was about to close up.” Yuri said eventually, out of self-preservation.

Otabek smile dropped. “Oh right. Of course.”

“It’s been a long day.”

“Oh yeah.”

Yuri led the man back to the front door and opened it for him, neither speaking. By the time Yuri’s hand was on the handle, he full to bursting with awkwardness.

“Uh, goodnight.” He said with a laugh that sounded weak even to his ears.

“Night.” Otabek replied. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Yuri frowned a little. “Yes, because you have my order?”

Whatever words Otabek had wanted to say got caught in his throat, and he shook his head with a disparaging laugh. “Of course. Well, bye.”

“Bye.”

Yuri closed the door and flipped the sign with a huge sigh. Biscuit had followed him and meowed up at him questioningly.

“I don’t even _know_ , Biscuit.” He replied. “I guess when you’re that hard it’s hard to be platonic even if you’re trying.”

The next second both Yuri and the pale feline nearly leapt out of their skins as a roar rattled the windows. Biscuit dashed for the nearest cover, claws skittering on the floorboards clutching his chest, Yuri peeked out of the window, and caught the tail lights of a Harley, driving away into the night.

“Jesus F Christ, he has a motorbike.” Yuri whispered to himself, breath misting the window. “What kind of baker has a goddamn motorbike?”

 

 

 

 


	3. 3: Exceptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I mean someone can only resist leather clad arms for so long....
> 
> *ignores the fact that I still have another fic to finish and saunters off into the distance...*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, it's fluff. I am having so much fun.

“I thought Godzilla had come to crunch my bones!” Pichit exclaimed to Yuri, collapsing dramatically onto the counter top while Yuri worked the coffee machine. “You swear you didn’t hear it? It was right there in the street!”

“Nope.” Yuri replied, focussing hard on the foam on top of pichit’s cappuccino.

“Lord, it must be someone new in the neighbourhood. I’ve never heard a bike that loud. It must have been right under your window at least.”

He referred to the fact that Yuri lived in the apartment above the shop, which kept his world fairly compact, and simple id unadventurous. In any case, it allowed the cats a wider hunting ground at night time, since his lift was fairly spacious for a bachelor. Yuri shrugged again.

“I sleep deep.” He offered simply. Phichit didn’t seem to mind; he had simple desires, to have an available ear to pour words into. Yuri had initially found him irritating, but over time he’d realised he needed to make peace with his overly gregarious neighbour, who regarded personal boundaries in other people as optional and unnecessary in himself. Hints rolled off his back like water, which made sense since he did everything at full volume. Just like his rampant sexuality; Phichit couldn’t go one week without trying his luck with _someone_. Rejections didn’t slow him down even a bit, he just brushed it off and served another cupcake.

“Like the dead.” Phichit agreed. “That bike was _loud_. I wish I’d seen who it was. Maybe some hot piece of man flesh…”

Yuri rolled his eyes and pushed the other man’s cappuccino towards him, garnering a cheerful exclamation.

“This is too cute! You should teach me how you get them to look so accurate.” He said, touching a tip of his finger to the foam, careful not to ruin the teddy bear picture Yuri had crafted in the white.

“I took a course.” Yuri replied. “You could too.”

“Pfft.” Was Pichit’s only reply. “No thank you.”

“You’re amazing.” Yuri laughed disparagingly.

“I know, I am. “Pichit flashed a sun-bright smile. “But for conversations sake, tell me why?”

“You run a successful patisserie, but you don’t know how to cook, bake or make a damn coffee. How you are still in business it’s a miracle.”

“The reason is,” Yuri told him, pouring a third spoon of sugar into the cup. “Because people come for the ambience. You have cats, I have natural charm.”

Yuri didn’t reply but twisted his mouth into a half smile. It was true; Phichit had a naturally friendly, gregarious personality and he had a very clever knack of making people feel instantly welcome and at ease as soon as they set foot into his shop. Yuri couldn’t deny it, since after the third fake smile of the day, he relied on his cats to peddle the charm. Luckily, his clientele came for exactly that; coffee, a snack and some feline face time.

He let Phichit take one of the bubble blowers from their rack next to the till, and watched quietly as he started blowing bubbles, drawing himself a little crowd. Burgundy loved them particularly, but today a few more were in the mood to play. Phichit giggled as paws batted at bubbles, then the look of astonishment when they vanished on contact.  Crunchy started his odd little chirp-meow that he usually reserved for the pigeons that taunted him just outside the windows. The residue left on the floor was sticky, and meant that Yuri had to mop every other day, but it was worth it for the play of both cat and human.

The reason he didn’t want to tell Pichit about the mysterious biker was obvious. Firstly he would never stop asking why Otabek had been there in the first place after hours, and secondly he kept thinking about how Pichit had eyed the baker and he might be offended by the fact that Yuri seemed to have gained more attention, through some completely mysterious means. Attention that Yuri had yet to understand.

He just hoped that Pichit wouldn’t ask about the multi-coloured cat-head shaped biscuits that were on display in the pastry case that day. Otabek hadn’t said anything when he’d dropped them off, citing he was in a rush, but his stupid grin lingered long after the truck had driven away and Yuri had stood looking after it for an entire minute before he had woken up, chided himself and gone back inside. He’d found them when he’d unpacked the various boxes along with a note;

 _A little something extra. I was inspired_ J

Yuri had folded the note and slotted it underneath the money drawer in the till, and shut it firmly. The day had demands that didn’t wait for mysterious cookies and cute notes.

Yuri was jarred from the recollection when the music over the speakers stuttered and skipped. Suddenly, Frank Sinatra started singing about the sunny side of streets. Yuri eyed Crookshanks, who took the opportunity to wash his ears, as if standing right next to the radio was a totally incidental.

“It’s amazing, how he knows how to change the disc.” Pichit gushed, looking at the same spectacle.

“Hmmm.” Yuri hummed, still eyeing Crookshanks shrewdly. “Amazing is one word for it. But he does like classics for some reason.”

“He has good taste.” Pichit nodded sagely then brightened. “Speaking of taste, what do you think of the hot baker?”

“Hmm?” Yuri replied evasively, turning back to the coffee maker and brewing himself another needless coffee. “He’s nice. Delivers on time.”

“Oh my god, _Yuri_.” Pichit opined. “I mean what you think of his _hotness_. He look fresh from the oven himself.”

Yuri huffed a sigh. “He’s someone I do business with. I don’t ogle my customers or my suppliers.”

Pichit was quiet a moment, which made Yuri sneak a glance at him and immediately regretted it. The fool was giving him a look so full of lewd knowing it made Yuri want to smack him.

“Suuuuuure.” Pichit purred.

Yuri frowned at him. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Ha!” Pichit laughed. “You think he’s cute admit it.”

Yuri gave in with a sigh. “So? It doesn’t matter.”

“Why?”

“You said he doesn’t date clients, which I agree with.”

“What?” Pichit brow furrowed very briefly in recollection. “Did I say that?”

Yuri glared. “That’s what you told me when you gave me his number. You said you asked him out and got shot down.”

“Um, well, I guess its true then. Probably. I ask out a lot of people.” Pichit replied absently, but he was putting the bubbles away and shoving his phone into his back pocket. “Why, are you thinking of asking him out?”

“No.” Yuri said firmly wishing the guy would leave. “Go away.”

“You are as transparent as a puddle, my little kitten friend.”

Yuri nodded towards the door. “The way out if there.”

Pichit left, but his lewd little chuckle lingered in the cat café like a Cheshire cat grin. Fortunately the door exchanged him for another favourite of Yuri’s, Amelia and Dorothy. When Amelia Pascale, and her 4 year old daughter had first come into his shop, he’d been wary. Kids weren’t typically good with cats, at least, not according to him or the cats. They tended to try and hug them, pet them roughly and pull tails. Overall, it wasn’t a good combination. But he was wholly surprised when the little girl had simply sat in the middle of his floor and made sort ‘chick chik’ sounds until Biscuit came to sniff at her fingers. Since then, whenever she and her mother visited, Yuri could rest easy knowing that the toddler was gentler with his fur family than most adults. Even now, biscuit when directly to her to twine around her ankles, making her giggle glossy curls bouncing as she bent down to greet him.

Amelia came to meet him, smiling. “She insisted she come see you all before the holidays ended.”

“She is always welcome.” Yuri replied, honestly, ringing them up. “The usual?”

“Mr Kitten, what are these?” Dorothy called and both he and her mother leaned over to see what she was pointing at. Of course, it was the pretty yellow, pink and blue cat shaped cookies.

“Those are new.” He told her, accepting the adopted nickname without batting an eye. “You want to be my test group to see if they taste good?”

Her eager nod and eyes shining with avaricious want held his answer. He went around to the glass case and grabbed the tongs. “One of each?”

Another curl bouncing nod and he ignored Amelia not-very-disapproving look. “We have a new baker, so I need your honest opinions.” He pushed the plate to wards were, and the cats with silver balls for eyes and liquorice for whiskers looked winsomely up at her. Of course, as he knew it would, her resolve broke.

“Oh alright.” She said, taking the plate.

“It’s the end of holidays after all.” Yuri told her, with a small real smile.

“Uh huh.” She nodded, following Dorothy to the table she had chosen, where Burgundy had already flowed into her lap and was now sitting like a giant, furry pillow. Her hands were feather-lite as she stroked him from head to tail with all the concentration of a painter working on their art.

When they were done and Amelia was paying the bill, she pointed out that he hadn’t charged for the cookies. He waved a hand.

“You’re the tester group remember? Your option is your payment.” He leaned on his elbows so he could see over the counter and look down at Dorothy, his braid sliding down and over his shoulder. “Were they good?”

“The blue ones, they, they, they taste like blueberries!” she burst out, smiling hugely.

“Those your favourite then?” he inquired, playing serious.

She shook her head. “No, the yellow ones.”

“What do they taste like?”

“Lemons! Not the sour part, the nice part.”

Yuri nodded as if this were highly valuable information. “Thank you for your feedback. Anything that can be improved on?”

Dorothy looked to her mother for explanation. “He means if you think they can be made better in any way.” She said gently. Dorothy lapsed into thoughtful pause.

“If you make pink ones, they should taste like milkshake please.”

“Noted.” Yuri nodded, pretending to write it down. Then he waved them goodbye and went to serve another couple.

 

-8-

 

The shop was empty, the dark descended and Yuri was mopping the floor. Apart from bubbles and general daily dirt, Burgundy had also thrown up a hefty fur ball so Yuri figured it was time anyway. After pushing all the furniture back against the walls of his small floor space, he put ‘Sleeping at last’ on the sound system and turned it up. He was tired, but not too tired today, and he swayed with the music while he sang softly along. He couldn’t sing very well, but his feet and body remembered their dance training, and even his relaxed sway was well-timed, with a senseless flourish around the handle of the mop every now and then.

He nearly slipped when he heard a loud rap at the window, and gripped the handle hard. Then he felt like an idiot. Then he remembered he’d been singing and dancing and felt like more of an idiot.

Otabek was there at the door, grinning at him through the glass. Once more, he was wearing his heavy leather jacket, and Yuri assumed he’d arrived on his bike.

 _You couldn’t shut the damn curtains?_ He berated himself as he went to unlock the door. The he remembered the music was still on and dashed back inside to turn it off. When he had, he saw Otabek was still hovering at the front door.

“Can I come in?” he asked carefully.

Could he? Why was he visiting him after dark yet again? But then again, it would be rude to say no. “Yeah, sure.”

Otabek shut the door behind him. “What was I interrupting?”

Yuri motioned to the mop and bucket. “Nothing special, I’m afraid. Just general cleaning.”

“Messy day?”

“Every day is a messy one with nine cats.” Yuri explained with feeling, feeling like he had too many limbs with nothing to do just then. So he went to pick up the mop, then realised that mopping was just…inappropriate for the situation.

“Um, can I help you with something?” he asked eventually, putting the mop aside again.  Then realised that sounded awful. “I just meant, I wasn’t expecting you. Is there something…uh…”

“I just wanted to ask if you liked the cat biscuits.” Otabek smiled.

The penny dropped and Yuri rubbed his brow in realisation. “Oh yes! Thank you for those. And as you can see,” he pointed at the display case, “they’re all gone, so I would call that a success.”

“Did you try one?” Otabek asked, one lock of his hair falling over one eye. The rest of it looked like fingers pushing through it was the most care it got, unlike like Yuri’s, which he kept combed an neatly away from his face for work.

“I told you, I don’t really like sweet things.” Yuri replied.

“I thought curiosity would get the better of you.”

“It rarely does.” Yuri said. “But I did get you some good reviews.”

Otabek still hadn’t moved the errant lock from its perch on his eyebrow and it was starting to be really distracting. “You did?”

“Yes. Apparently the yellow ones taste like the nice part of lemons, and you should make pink ones that taste like milkshake.”

Otabek blinked. “Which milkshake?”

“I suppose you could experiment if you really wanted to.” The hair, was like a dark stripe over his forehead and filled the world.

“That depends if you would want to sell them in your shop again.”

“Sure, why not.” Yuri replied, and nearly died of shame when his hand reached out _all on its own_ and pushed the lock of hair away from his face.

They stared at each other in shocked silence for a moment before Yuri snatched his hand back like it was burnt.

“Shitshitshit I am so sorry.” Yuri burbled. “It was just there and bugging me-“

“My hair was bugging you?” Otabek asked, grinning bemusedly.

“No, your hair itself is great, but that one piece…ugh I’m so sorry. That was so incredibly rude.” Yuri said, hiding his face in one hand. “It’s late, I’m tired. I don’t usually touch random stranger’s faces. Or any part of them, I swear.”

A warm chuckle made Yuri peek out through his fingers. The baker was actually smiling and the tips of his ears were pink. “It’s ok. I mean, I don’t usually like it when random strangers touch me, but you’re the exception.”

Yuri felt Biscuit climbing up the back of it trousers, then shirt and take his perch on Yuri’s shoulder.

“Hi.” Otabek said to the cat, but Yuri was suddenly feeling _snappy_.

“What’s going on here?” Yuri asked outright and watched the friendly grin fall from Otabek’s face.

“Huh?”

“This.” Yuri waved his fingers at the space in between them. “You making special little cat peyote and asking their names and making cat cookies and leaving cute notes.”

The smile was back. “You thought my note was cute?”

“Dude.” Yuri said, punctuating his address by pointing a finger at him. “Pichit told me you don’t date clients. But the last couple days have felt a little too close to flirting to be ‘ _just friend getting to know your new client_ ’ interaction. And now you’re here again, asking me about cookies? Except it doesn’t feel like this is just about damn baked goods.”

Biscuit, undeterred by Yuri’s minor ranting, settled over Yuri’s shoulder like a living fox fur and closed his eyes. “So if you’re not flirting with me, can we please just lay that out on the table right now? I don’t mind if you’re straight and just really friendly, but I would like to know.”

Otabek’s smile had frozen as he listened to Yuri’s ranting, but his expression has smoothed into something interested and mischievous. “Ok, I did say that to Mr Chulanont.”

Yuri felt something in him deflate, leaving behind a lingering disappointment. But he took a deep, steadying breath and nodded. “Its fine, it’s fine, just-“

“But doesn’t every rule have an exception?” Yuri’s embarrassed apologies died in his throat. “Hmm?”

“Mr. Plisetsky, I’m not straight, and I am not just overly friendly. I…have been flirting with you.”

The man looked entirely too confident about it, when all Yuri wanted to do was fidget. His one hand came up to scratch biscuits ear, triggering a rumbling purr and he felt instantly calmer. “You have.”

“And I admit it, when Mr Chulanont came onto me, I told him the truth, that I don’t mix business with pleasure. He didn’t seem too disappointed over it though.”

Yuri shook his head. “Don’t take it personally.”

Otabek shrugged. “I didn’t. But like I was saying, that was before I spoke to you, and met you in person.”

“In person.” Yuri echoed stupidly.

“And when I did…well, it made believe in exceptions.”

Yuri was still stroking Biscuit, and felt Oreo come to smear some more fur over his ankles, and watched the tips of Otabek’s ears redden some more.

“Um, I came tonight because I was going to ask if I could call you…sometime.” He said, punctuating his words with an adorable shrug, hands tucked inside the pockets of his jacket, biting his lip just a little.

There was a ponderous moving of details inside Yuri’s head but they eventually clicked. And he laughed.

“I’m such an idiot.” Yuri said to himself.

“Is that a soft ‘yes’?”

Yuri gestured to the floor, where the fur family were gathering expectantly, annoyed that their dinner was taking longer than usual, and ruining the minor cleaning he had started. “Every single one of my cats is an exception to some rule or the other.” He looked back to the baker. “But you don’t have to be. I’ve felt like a completely idiot since you walked in, trying to be normal. But now I know I wasn’t imagining things…”

“You weren’t.” Otabek agreed, his shoulders relaxing.

Yuri felt bubbly and happy kind of stupid. “I guess now that you’re around, you can help me feed the horde.”

Otabek brightened, and stooped down to pick Oreo, who let him. “Sure. Are there any cat-nips left?”

”About that…” Yuri started reluctantly, leading them around the counter and to the double swing door. “This morning I was spinning and I took it out of the fridge while I was making sandwiches. And I forgot to put it back in…”

As they arrived in the kitchen, Yuri pointed to the box, already made out of thin cardboard, with its corner torn as if tiny sharp teeth had tried to actually shred their way inside.

“Needless to say, it was empty when I came back fifteen minutes later.” Yuri finished as he went to start dragging the enormous bag of cat food along the production line, where the patrons were already waiting and caterwauling. Suddenly, strong, leather clad arms came forward and picked the bag up as if it were filled with cotton wool. Yuri stared a little and Otabek grinned.

“Bakers arms. We lift heavy things.” He offered.

“Bread is heavy?” Yuri said, filling the feeding cup and pouring it into the first bowl. Crunchy descended on it with rapture. Otabek followed his slow pace, holding the bag at eye height for him.

“Well, ten crates of bread are heavy. Twenty kilo bags of flour are heavy.”

“Point taken.” Yuri said. “I don’t know much about the inside world of baking.”

“It’s rough. The mountains of dough,”

“Piles of powdered sugar.”

“Roaring fires from ovens.”

“Icing cat biscuits and adding tiny little silver balls for eyes.”

“Hey, bakers are hard core.” Otabek defended.

“Do they all ride Harleys?” Yuri asked, meeting his eyes.

“Not that I’ve met.” Otabek retorted. “I’m the hard-core-est.”

Yuri laughed as he filled the last bowl and gestured for Otabek to set aside the bag. Yuri appreciated the way the leather jacket stretched over his shoulders as he set the bag carefully down, and even more so the snug way his ass fit into his jeans when he squatted down to pet Pork.

“So…can I call you then?”

Yuri pulled his eyes out of the gutter. “Hmm? Oh. Um…look I really want to say yes. But I feel a little bad for my neighbour.”

Otabek stood. “He didn’t seem to really care that I turned him down.”

“Still,” Yuri said regretfully. “I feel like I would be...I don’t know. Lying? No, not that but… unkind. Not to at least tell him first.”

The grin was back, looking down at Yuri as if he were something very cute. “It’s not dating. Yet. Just a phone call.”

Yuri raised an eyebrow. “You are extremely cocky for someone who hasn’t gotten a ‘yes’ yet.”

“But I feel like a ‘yes’ it’s definitely on its way.” He said stepping closer. Yuri held his ground because he was enjoying himself.

“You shouldn’t presume things.” He warned, even though it was all fake.

“If I promise to speak to him tomorrow, can I call you then?”

“What if he is heartbroken? What if he calls me a vile betrayer?”

They were very close now, but Yuri still hadn’t backed down. Otabek stopped his advance with a with a soft chuckle.

“Considering he asked my driver out this morning, I don’t think that will happen. But if you insist…”

“I insist.”

Suddenly, Otabek retreated with a long suffering sigh. “Ok. I’ll do it.”

Yuri felt the sudden space between them, thinking that ‘closer’ felt so much better. He wanted to see those arms…

“But, um, would it be ok if I stayed for a coffee?” the way he asked was so endearingly hopeful Yuri felt immediately lighter, like the good feelings inside him where made of helium.

“If you like cappuccino, I can make you one with a teddy bear in the foam. Or a swan.”

Otabek liked that. “Teddy bear then. And you can tell me about all your exceptions.” He pointed at the cats. Oreo was already turned towards them, licking his chops and hopeful.

“All nine?” Yuri asked as they both turned back towards the door.

“I like back stories.”

“You know about Pork. Ashes is an interesting one…”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually drew these cats lol. Can you tell I love cats?
> 
> Thank you fuku-shuu for the awesome cat scene idea. Alot of them are based on real things my cats did once, and things I've read and seen other cats do.
> 
> Isn't Beka the cutest?  
> Holla at me if you like :)


	4. You saucy little wench

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phichit has no chill.

Yuri didn’t need an alarm. He had cats.  
  
As he rolled over, Simba walked over his moving body like he was performing a circus trick and settled again onto Yuri’s hip when he stopped moving. Crookshanks pawed at his nose.  
  
“Ugh,” Yuri groaned. “Can’t I sleep in just one damn morning?”  
  
He found his phone from the nightstand, letting Pork curl up under his armpit and petting him softly while he checked the time. 7:20 AM.  
  
“Oh wow, a whole extra ten minutes,” he murmured. Crookshanks meowed pitifully at him but Yuri was old hat at this game, and ignored him. He scrolled briefly through his messages letting his brain warm up.  
  
There was a message from Otabek. His brain whirred into wakefulness and he clicked it open.  
  
Beka Bakes: **_I have another surprise for you today._**

 

Yuri glanced at the time stamp. 5:00AM.  
  
 ** _What kind of weirdo sends messages at 5AM_** _?_ he typed out and held his breath for only a moment before sending it.  
  
As he was about to check the message from Viktor, his phoned buzzed with reply.  
  
BB: **_I told you, bakers are hard-core._** ** _  
_** ** _  
_**Yuri couldn’t help but smile at his phone. He sat up properly, apologising briefly to Pork when he complained.  
  
Y: **_Getting up before the sun does not qualify you as hard-core_**.  
  
BB: **_Even if I got up extra early to make these?_**  
  
Accompanying the message was a small picture which Yuri tapped to see in full view. This time, the cookies were shaped like paws, iced in pink and yellow with four gumdrop toes on each.  
  
This guy….  
  
Y: **_I think we don’t have the same definition of ‘hard-core.’_** Yuri texted back.  
  
BB: **_Yeah…maybe gingerbread paws aren’t very badass…._**  
  
Y: **_Ya think?_**   
  
BB: ** _See you soon_**  
  
Yuri may or may not have rushed just a little more than usual getting washed and dressed, tripping down the stairs like his feet had springs. He fed the cats in a good mood, even daring to pet Quincy who was too surprised to growl at the contact. When the _Beka Bakes_ truck brakes screamed their high pitched sound, Yuri had already unlocked and opened the door, but at least had the self-respect to pretend to be cleaning the kitchen when Otabek walked through it.  
  
“Morning,” Otabek grinned, setting his boxes down on the stainless steel island and two loaves of bread next to it.  
  
“Again,”  Yuri replied.  
  
“Again.”  
  
“Are you up that early every morning?” Yuri said, putting the broom that he wasn’t actually using away.  
  
Otabek squatted down to pet Ashes, who had come close to sniff at his feet. He arched happily into Otabek broad hand over his back. “Yeah. I have to, to make sure everything is fresh and ready for early morning delivery.”  
  
“Geez.” Yuri had sort of known this already, but it was more real coming from someone he knew…and liked. “That’s a long day for you.”  
  
“I usually pass out by six.” Otabek admitted, straightening again.  
  
“But, uh, you’ve been coming by after that…” Yuri pointed out slowly.  
  
“Yes,” Otabek acknowledged with a grin.  
  
“Ah.” Yuri said, feeling the blush warm his cheeks again. “Um.”  
  
“I’m going to your neighbour next,” Otabek casually mentioned.  Yuri was saved from his awkwardness, but at the same time adding some more reasons to be awkward.  
  
“Good luck.” Yuri sad, picking up the boxes and heading to front-of-shop, ignoring Otabek’s receding chuckle.  
  
  
  
-8-  


 

  
“OH MY GOD, Yuri Plisetsky you little wench!”   
  
Yuri nearly dropped the tray he was carrying, and both he, his customers and all present cats whipped around to face him.   
  
“You sneaky little creature! You snagged the baker!”   
  
Yuri set the tea, coffee and gingerbread cat paws onto the table, where his customers were gazing at Phichit with good natured bewilderment, and tried to smile. “Please excuse my crazy neighbour.”   
  
The couple chuckled, and waved him off. “We know him.”   
  
“Wish I didn’t,” he said in a low voice making the woman laugh. Then he tucked the tray under his arm, strode to the door where Phichit had announced himself and dragged the man behind the counter.   
  
“Phichit,” he said, working hard to keep his voice quiet and polite. “What the fuck?”   
  
But Phichit’s excitement refused to be dampened. “He told me when he delivered two minutes ago. He wants to ask you out! Oh my god!”   
  
Yuri tried hissing him into silence. “Shut up. This isn’t high school. God.” His back pocket buzzed and he fished his phone out. “Stop squealing like a teenage girl.”   
  
“But it’s so cute!” Phichit squealed, as soft as a stage whisper. “I’ve known you for three years and you haven’t had even one boyfriend.”   
  
“Neither have you,” Yuri pointed out, looking at his phone. It was message from Otabek.   
  
BB: **_Sorry, he just…went_ ** .   
  
Y:  **_He always does. Don’t worry_ ** . 

 

Yuri typed back quickly, assuring Otabek that he’s more than familiar with his neighbour’s antics.   
  
“Yes, but I at least date.”   
  
“Is that what you call it?” Yuri muttered, putting the phone away again.   
  
“Oh stop it.” Phichit waved him off and grabbed his shoulders. “He’s so gorgeous. Aren’t you thrilled?”   
  
“I think you’re using up all the ‘thrill’ in the room,” Yuri told him. “Phichit you can’t come in here shouting like that. Apart from the fact that I’m running a business, you’ll freak the cats out.”   
  
Finally, reality seemed to catch up with Phichit. He glanced around, not at the potentially offended customers but for the potentially terrified cats. Sure enough, Burgundy had retreated underneath the counter and was now watching Phichit warily. Immediately, the ebullient man bent down, going on his knees to become eye level with the almost-Persian, and crooned.   
  
“I’m sorry, my fluffy baby,” he said, reaching out cautiously. “Your papa just got me so happy.”   
  
Yuri rolled his eyes, and left, not caring if Phichit earned a scratch. At least he wasn’t upset, which he hadn’t really been worried about but still, he’d done his due diligence. He was officially a good person.   
  
When he came back, Phichit had seen the cookies and gave him a sly grin, phone in hand as he had been taking photos of it.   
  
“Did he make these just for you?”   
  
Yuri decided not answering was better than lying and brushed past him. “Why are you taking photos of them?”   
  
“Because they’re cute! Do they taste as good as they look?”   
  
Instead of answering, Yuri simply fished one out and gave it to him, waiting while Phichit bit and chewed. The man gave a happy little shiver.   
  
“They are!”   
  
“Tell him,” Yuri said flatly.   
  
“Haven’t you tried them?”   
  
“I don’t like sweet things.”   
  
“Yuri!” Phichit chided. “The man bakes you cat themed cookies and you don’t even try one?”   
  
Yuri sighed hugely and looked at his neighbour with long borne patience. “Are you going to get over this any time soon?”   
  
Floods couldn’t put out Phichit’s glee. “Definitely not. You two are so adorable, I ship you 110%”   
  
“I don’t know what that means,” Yuri said, closing the cabinet. “Don’t you have your own customers to annoy?”   
  
Phichit had a mouth full of cookie so Yuri walked away before he could go on. Then the door chimed.   
  
“Kitten!”   
  
Yuri froze in place. For the second time that day, he loathed the fact that he knew so many loud people. Framed by the doorway stood, his tall, silver haired cousin was smiling like a demi god and attracting the attention of everyone I it.   
  
“Victor,” Yuri said weakly. “What are you doing here?”   
  
Viktor’s angelic smile faltered. “I messaged you last night that I was coming to visit?”   
  
Oh shit. He had, but Yuri had been been flirt-texting Otabek and forgotten about to actually read the message. “Right. You did.”   
  
“Yuri is distracted,” Phichit spoke up. Viktor’s attention turned and his smile was back.   
  
“Chulanont!”   
  
“Niki!”   
  
Yuri face palmed as the two men in his life with similarly cheerful temperament gayed it out in the middle of his shop floor, hugging and kissing cheeks. There were only four customers, but they were enjoying the show. Eventually Yuri realised he couldn’t let it go on, and went to hustle them into the kitchen, where they would be out of sight.   
  
“Yuri, is Phichit right? You have a boyfriend?” Viktor asked immediately, blue eyes bright. He dropped his tote on the floor, and Yuri privately noted that it meant he would be staying at least one night.   
  
“No,” Yuri glared at the unapologetic Phichit. “I don’t.”   
  
“You  _ have _ , a little,” Phichit said, giggling.   
  
“No,” Yuri said firmly, losing his cool and pointing an accusing finger at dark haired Thai. “I asked him to let you know before anything happened out of respect for you. Because you told me you’re asked him out and got shot down. But now, I regret even bothering, because you don’t care about me enough not to embarrass me in front of my family and customers.” He kept his voice level, but he was angry. “Stop behaving like a shit, and leave me alone. My love life is not your business.”   
  
Then he turned to Viktor. “I am glad you’re here, but right now, I’m in a bad mood.” He fished his key from his back pocket and handed it to his stunned cousin. “I got your message but I forgot to read it. You know where the door is. I’ll come up later and catch up.”   
  
Then he turned around and left them both, before he became completely incapable of being a halfway decent human being and have to close up altogether.   
  
-8-   
  
“Is he here?”   
  
It was afternoon, and Yuri had calmed down. He hadn’t seen Phichit again, so he must gone out the back, and Yuri was grateful. Viktor had also gone upstairs and was still there as far as Yuri knew, though he might be out and about too, depending on where he had flown in from. Now he looked up to see Max, the fourteen year old who had named Simba.   
  
“Dude, he’s always here. He lives here,” Yuri replied, sniggering.   
  
“Can I see him?”   
  
“Of course, if you can find him.” Yuri shrugged, and Max immediately started looking for Simba. 

 

“Come Si Si Si, Simba…” Max called out.   
  
Max usually came around after class, and was a fairly average kid, to Yuri’s assessment. He never saw a parent or family, but he didn’t ask questions. Sometimes, he suspected that Max really didn’t want to talk about them. He’d first met the kid when he’d found him crouched and weeping in the alley behind his shop. He watched the boy unnoticed for a minute before tapping his shoulder for attention.   
  
“You like cats?”   
  
Since that was the day he’d also found Simba in a cardboard box marked ‘free to a good home’ outside a pet shop, he’d let Max name him. Yuri showed Max how to feed Simba kitten milk, teaching him how to be gentle with the syringe. Simba had barely been five weeks old, which was another reason he hated pet shops. Nowadays, Max came by at least once a week, to call for and cuddle Simba, who was acceptably tolerant of the affection, but never a very touchy cat. Max had once mentioned that he would never be allowed pets at home, and Yuri had understood that Simba represented more than just a surrogate pet.   
  
And in spite of his general aversion to anyone younger than twenty, he and Max had a fairly good friendship.   
  
“What’s eating you?” Yuri asked when Max had found Simba and was cradling him for the forty five seconds he had because Simba would wriggle away.   
  
“What? Nothing,” Max replied, frowning but not looking his way.   
  
“Sure,” Yuri said, putting a laden plate down. “Want a ham sandwich?”   
  
Max let Simba free and stood quickly. “Hell yes.”   
  
He let Max bite into the sandwich while he started drying cups from the dishwasher and packing them away. But he watched from the corner of his eye; Max was definitely hiding something.   
  
“You in trouble at school or something?” Yuri tried but Max only frowned while chewing.   
  
“Do you even care?” Max shot back and Yuri gave up.   
  
“Fine, suit yourself,” Yuri said, shrugging and walking away. It wasn’t his business if Max didn’t feel like chatting.   
  
He had started restocking the glass cabinet when Max cleared his throat. “Thanks for the sandwich”   
  
“No problem,” Yuri said lightly.   
  
Frank Sinatra crooned over the sound system and Yuri hummed along.   
  
“It’s a girl,” Max admitted hesitantly.   
  
Yuri glanced up. “Oh?”   
  
“Yeah,” Max said, with hunched shoulders and his face like a storm cloud. Yuri came back to the counter and started stacking plates.   
  
“Not that I like girls, but I thought that crushes made people happy.”   
  
“Not when its one sided.”   
  
“Ah,” Yuri realised. “How do you know?”   
  
Max shrugged angrily, shoulders bobbing up and down in a quick movement. “Girls are dumb, man. You never know what they’re thinking.”   
  
Yuri put down the plate he was busy with. “Look, you don’t have to, but if you wanna tell me about it, I’m not doing anything right now. I was a teen once.”   
  
Max darted a suddenly awkward glance at him. “Uh, yeah, but…you like guys. It’s different.”   
  
Yuri snatched a spoon from the drawer and smacked Max on the forehead with the head.   
  
“Ouch!” Max exclaimed, rubbing the spot where the metal hit. “What the fuck, man?”   
  
Yuri pointed the spoon at him. “Stop being a dumbass. Attraction is attraction, no matter who’s doing it or receiving it.”   
  
Max grumbled and rubbed his head. “Sorry.”   
  
Yuri put the spoon away again and went back to drying plates. “It doesn’t matter who you are. When your crush walks in the room, you get stupid, your body gets weird…”   
  
“This sounds like a sex talk,” Max smirked.   
  
“It’s not.” Yuri shot him a warning glare. “I just saying, that you’re going to go through your whole life, but having a crush stays the same. So, you wanna tell me about it?”   
  
Max pretended to think for a bit and eventually gave in. “Her name is Clarisse and, man, she has these freckles…”   
  
“Uh huh,” Yuri intoned.   
  
“I don’t know, I see her and my legs go funny,” Max said, a big dumb grin growing on his face while he imagined said girl. “And her hair. She’s Korean-Irish dude. So she has the most amazing hair, that warm soft orange colour, but her skin is pure, man, pure! And the freckles…”   
  
Yuri nodded along, smiling a little as he listened to Max ant on about his crush. Clearly, all the boy needed was an audience. But the happy ramble faded out and so did the grin, ending in a sigh.   
  
“But she isn’t into me man.” Max said, looking so abruptly sad it was like whiplash. With perfect timing, Ashes leapt up and behind to head butt the boys chin. Max scratched hands into his fur looking grateful.   
  
“How do you know? Have you talked to her?” Yuri asked carefully.   
  
“Well, nothing except ‘hello’ and ‘can I borrow a pen?’” Max admitted.   
  
“So,” Yuri said, “you’ve said three words to her and from all this intense interaction you figured out she’s not into you?”   
  
Max glared, but it was feeble. “No. But…I heard her parents are really racist. They’d never let her date a black guy.”   
  
The penny dropped. “Oh. Hmm.”   
  
“Yeah,” Max agreed sadly.   
  
Yuri rubbed a dish dry thoughtfully. “You know, I didn’t come out until I was twenty. But I dated a bit before that.”   
  
Max eyed him like he was unsure why this mattered.   
  
“My grandfather wasn’t very...progressive. If he had known I was sneaking out to kiss boys behind the seven eleven, he would have died a lot earlier I think. Of a heart attack. After coming down on me like a ton of bricks.”   
  
“Uh huh,” Max said cautiously. “I’m sorry?”   
  
Yuri gave him an ‘are-you-an-idiot’ look. “I’m not telling you for your sympathy, dumbass. I’m saying that sometimes, even though our parents want one thing, we still go and do what we want anyway.” He shrugged. “You shouldn’t assume her parents’ morals are hers, and even then, you only ‘heard’ her parents are racist. You don’t even know for sure. I mean, they’re Korean-Irish for goodness sake. I think they’ve probably bent the rules already in that area. Besides, teenagers are always doing shit to annoy their parents, rebelling. There’s songs about it and everything.”   
  
Max looked significantly less gloomy. “You think?”   
  
“It’s an idea. But you would have to actually talk to her. Like, ‘Hi my name is Max and I hang around cats sometimes’.”   
  
“I won’t tell her that!”   
  
“Fine, just tell her something.  You miss all the chances you don’t take.”   
  
“But what if she really doesn’t like me?”   
  
Yuri shrugged. “You’re not marrying her, just starting a conversation.”   
  
“Oh my god, our kids would be so beautiful...”   
  
Yuri listened as Max launched into more retelling while Ashes made himself comfortable getting as close as possible to his chin. It lasted as long as it took for the front door to chime once more and Yuri looked up, and his throat closed.   
  
“Hey,” Otabek greeted with a half-smile.   
  
Yuri raised a hand and smiled. “Uh…hey.”   
  
Max had turned to see the arrival, then looked at Yuri with a shit eating grin. “Makes you stupid, huh?”   
  
Yuri scowled at the teenager. “Hey Max, since I let you eat here for free, you can go feed my cats.”   
  
“It’s early though…”   
  
“It’s not,” Yuri told him firmly. “Get to it.”   
  
Max left but he made sure to give Yuri an obviously leery look as he did so. He had fed the cats before, so Yuri wasn’t worried. Ashes, however, transferred his abundant affections to Otabek, who had come forward to take his spot at the counter, and Yuri felt all the smiles he’d left behind that morning come back.   
  
“Aren’t you out past your bedtime?” he asked.   
  
“I’m all about rule breaking,” Otabek replied. “Good day?”   
  
“It had its moments,” Yuri sighed, remembering Phichit’s explosion, his cousin’s arrival and general messiness of the day. “Yours?”   
  
“Honestly?” Otabek said looking directly at him. “I was just waiting for the end of it so I could come and see you.”   
  
Yuri blushed and cursed himself for having thin blood. “Uh…ok.”   
  
Otabek canted his head. “So, I can call you now?”   
  
“You have literally visited my shop more times than days you’ve known me,” Yuri pointed out. “Phone calls seem moot.”   
  
“It’s more the symbol of the call than the call itself,” Otabek acknowledged. “But you’re right, I seem to have done things in the wrong order. Next step would be a date.”   
  
Yuri grinned. “You’re asking me on a date?”   
  
“Well, no,” Otabek replied. “Not yet. I need to find an extra helmet first.”   
  
“Sorry what?” Yuri blinked, derailed.   
  
“Well, I’m not taking you on a date in my truck,” Otabek chuckled.   
  
Yuri realised he meant the bike. Oh. Oh.   
  
“Alright,” Yuri said weakly.   
  
“Alright? To what?”   
  
“To whatever!” Yuri said waving his hands in surrender. “I don’t know, it’s like when you’re around I just end up being dumb. So obviously I like you, so whatever. Dating, a call, whatever.”   
  
“You get dumb?” Otabek asked with a laugh.   
  
“Oh please, like it’s not obvious.”   
  
“What’s obvious is that I like you,” Otabek said, coming around the counter and closer. “So far, I’ve thought you’re cute, funny, interesting and…very attractive. Not dumb.”   
  
Yuri had to look up because Otabek was taller and a lot closer. “Ah. Well, you’re not so bad yourself.”   
  
“So, yes to whatever?” Otabek repeated.   
  
“Um, maybe I should have been clearer….”   
  
But Otabek was already ghosting a kiss over his lips, barely there, a question more than anything else. Yuri felt that holding back at this stage would be pointless so he gave in, pushing forward and making the kiss more definite, doing what he’d been wondering about doing since day one. There was a minor stubble over Otabek’s face that scraped against his own smooth chin, but it was soft and delicious anyway, perfect for a first kiss.   
  
When Otabek pulled away his eyes were half closed. “Perfect.”   
  
“Not too bad yourself,” Yuri replied, wiping at his lip with a thumb. “Although, you’re going to have to wait until an actual date for another one.”   
  
“I’ll take you on a hundred dates, if I get a kiss at the end of each one.”   
  
“Dude, cool your jets,” Max’s voice broke in.   
  
Yuri’s good mood dropped to the floor. “Max. Your timing…”   
  
But Otabek only laughed and stretched out his hand. “I’m Otabek.”   
  
Max took it and shook. “I’m Max. I’m a friend.”   
  
“You’re a nuisance,” Yuri scoffed at him mildly then turned back to Otabek. “When we do go on this date, I’d like to avoid everyone I know please.”   
  
“Hey, I fed your cats.” Max protested.   
  
“And I feed you,” Yuri shot back.   
  
“If it’s not too much bother, any chance I can have another coffee?” Otabek asked, leaning against the counter.   
  
“Me too!”   
  
Yuri sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.   
  
“Fine. But you’re getting orange juice,” he said to Max.   
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to get this one out before the weekend :)


	5. Savoury pig's ears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beka finally gets it right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to say very quickly that I love all your comments. I kid you not, I reread them several times before I empty out my inbox, and I wish I could answer them all. But your appreciation is so very appreciated :)
> 
> Feel free to pop on by my tumblr :) There is art for this silly, diabetes inducing fic :)
> 
> https://micaelavdb.tumblr.com/image/160650680538  
> https://micaelavdb.tumblr.com/image/160503771453  
> http://eclair.tumblr.com/image/160450999451

“I’m sorry sir, that isn’t how a cat cafe works,” Yuri said, patience and good temper, already thin on the ground, hanging on by a thread. “The cats aren’t circus animals. They don’t have to come to you or do anything they don’t want to.”

“This is false advertising,” the man replied gruffly, his round face twisted into an ugly scowl. “If I just wanted a coffee I could have gone next door. At least the staff there have better manners.”

The spider silk thread of Yuri’s patience snapped, and he flashed a bright smile. “My cats are not ‘staff’ and I wish you had gone next door because the longer I spend looking at your face, I am not surprised that not even one of the nine cats that live here and generally greet everyone at least once, have not bothered to come within ten paces of you. Good bye.”

He said this with thinly veiled venom as the man had already turned while he spoke, making his way to the exit. Yuri waved, even though the ex-customer was no longer looking.

“I’m giving you a bad rating!” he shot back.

 

“Please don’t hesitate to fuck off,” Yuri replied cheerfully, but his false smile dropped as soon as the idiot let the door bang closed. He puffed his cheeks in a muted sigh and bent down to retrieve Oreo from beneath the counter where he had gone to hide.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he murmured comfortingly to the feline who pawed at his shirt, head turning this way and that, still looking for the source of the threat. “Clearly  _ not _ a cat person.”

Oreo was still spooked and leapt off, disappearing through the cat flap in the double door where most of the others had gone. The only ones who had remained were Biscuit and Pork, and the one was hiding in the space between the counter ceiling and the dishwasher, and the other in the small nook by the street side window, where he could dash off at any minute if he wanted to. Yuri sighed again.

 

Some idiots just didn’t read the fucking rules. It wasn’t as if he expected his clientele to all be ardent cat lovers, but for the most part they were the fairly innocuous sort, more likely to come in because of the novelty of having a snack in a place specifically designed for felines to coexist comfortably with humans. The floors were cool terra cotta tile, the tables circular and small, and the ambience comfortably lazy. Then there were the many additions Yuri himself had added, making the room a kind of at theme park. He had glued rough carpet to the walls, making them simultaneously scratchable and climbable to the many cat sized balconies, nailed in at random intervals and angles. The ceiling was hung with a simple webbed walkway, and from the legs of each table hung a hammock just large enough to one cat to lie comfortably, or three cats to lie on top of each other if they felt like being even more comfortable. Throughout the shop were smaller icons of a place that existed for cats primarily and humans incidentally; a shredded toy mouse, a Styrofoam balls, a scratch post that was more scratch than post.

 

The point was, the place was for the cats, and Yuri was merely the caretaker. But still, there were those idiot humans who came into Coffee Whiskers thinking that is was a domestic sort of petting zoo with coffee to boot. Basically, people with next to no understanding about feline and their intrinsically mercurial nature. The customer had come in on a day when none of the cats felt like being entertaining or touched, and it hadn’t gone over well.

 

“On that fantastic note,” Yuri muttered to himself as he walked to the door and turned the closed sign to ace outward, “we are done for the day. It’s half an hour early but who needs the revenue right?”

 

Pork blinked his enormous eyes slowly at him as if acknowledging that the guy was an asshole and they were all in need of a definite treat. Yuri grimaced. He would be getting no treat tonight. Otabek had messaged that morning already to say he wouldn’t be making his usual unscheduled visit that day. Not that he was waiting for it, but the knowledge that he wouldn’t be coming by still made the day seem just a little heavier. Which was ridiculous. He’d known the guy less than a week.

 

He told himself that it was a good thing anyway, since he’d been neglecting his cousin, who wasn’t staying that long after all. Viktor had gone and amused himself in the daytime but he hadn’t really had a chance to catch up. So he fed the yowling horde and went to make two cups of coffee, one bitter and one with exact two and a half sugars with cream, and carried them both upstairs. He didn’t have a coffee maker upstairs, reasoning that having two coffee makers with one short staircase separating them was a stupid idea.

 

Viktor was already in the kitchenette, decanting take away ramen into bowls for them and turned with a diamond bright smile. “Yuri! Just in time, I bought dinner.”

 

“Don’t you eat enough ramen at home?” he asked, coming closer and handing over the mug of creamy sweet tea. “You know? With your husband? Who is Japanese?”

 

“Oh hush. You like it too, besides, it always tastes different here. Something changes in translation you know.”

 

“Hmm...” Yuri replied and went to sit at the very small kitchen island, setting his cup down. Viktor joined him, pushing a bowl his way but ignoring his own in favour of the coffee he held. He inhaled with a look of bliss and exhaled out a happy sigh.

 

“Oh my god. Lord knows I love the man, but Yuuri can’t make a coffee worth a damn,” he confessed, the same way he did every time he visited. Yuri gave a soft snort anyway.

“It’s the beans,” Yuri told his cousin. “I buy them from this organic farmer at the market on Gem Hill.”

 

“Or maybe you just make a damn good cup of coffee,” Viktor added with a raised eyebrows, bringing his own bowl close and shovelling noodles into his mouth.

 

“Ah well, there has to be a reason I’ve stayed open for three years.”

 

Viktor always made himself at home when he visited, him being one of the extremely small number of people in Yuri’s life who didn’t feel like he was invading. They worked well together, since they had actually shared an apartment for five or so years in St. Petersburg. Yuri was happy to let someone else serve dinner for once, while he cooled his heels on the single bar stool.

 

“So how is Yuuri?” he asked, catching at some kale and managing to eat it with minimal splashing.

 

“Oh you know, still jet setting. He’s in Belgium now, though I don’t know for how long. I said I would meet up with him in France when the conference ends.”

 

Yuuri Katsuki had retired from figure skating several years before, and Viktor along with him, in order to pursue other tangential interests. Now Yuuri delivered training courses to future skaters while Viktor choreographed programs on a ‘when he felt like it’ basis. It meant they travelled a lot, but could still coordinate their lives together. It also meant Yuri got to see his cousin four or five times a year, when his flights could be arranged to stop over in Maine, USA.

 

“Does he still stutter when he starts a speech?” Yuri grinned and Viktor laughed affectionately.

 

“Every time. He tried going to a speech therapist but it’s just something about the crowds of adoring fans that make him trip. He warms up well now though,” Viktor acknowledged, a look of warm reflection on his features. “He’s getting so good at it, Yuri. When he stops worrying and just goes with it… He has this perfect way of phrasing what he means…”

 

Yuri listened while Viktor rambled on about his husband, married now for seven, no, eight years and he still became a happy glow-boy when they were together. They were so unabashedly mushy about each other, it would have made Yuri retch if it wasn’t so genuine. He’d known Viktor his whole life, seen his handsome cousin date like he was checking bingo boxes. but the moment Katsuki Yuuri had drunkenly hugged him at an after party one night, he’d never looked at another person again. He listened with half ear, letting his body settle like sediment into the seat he sat on, thoughts idling between the shop, the irate customer, the cats, Otabek, and ice skating.

 

“Oh my darling!” Viktor suddenly exclaimed, setting his bowl aside and stretching out a hand. Pork had leapt up onto the table, looking far too bold. But he knew he got away with it when Viktor was around.

 

“How are you, my little Katsudon?” Viktor said to the cat, petting and scratching behind his ears, which the wide eyed feline leaned into shamelessly while at the same time eyeing Viktor’s now abandoned dinner. Yuri moved it away. “How I wish Yuuri wasn’t allergic to you,” Viktor mourned as Pork pushed closer, purring like a tractor.

 

“A fact you might have find out before you went and bought a Scottish Fold,” Yuri pointed out.

 

“It seemed like such a good idea at the time,” Viktor replied sadly, “but I admit, I didn’t think it through. I just saw those eyes and I was done.”

 

As if he knew he was the subject of such adoration, Pork gave a rare ‘meow’ in his sweet voice making Viktor nuzzle his face into the fur of the cat’s neck.

 

“He is the most wonderful creature!” Viktor exclaimed, utterly enamoured.

 

“He just wants your dinner,” Yuri replied flatly.

 

“Oh, let him have a bite,” Viktor said, as Yuri knew he would do it eventually. He didn’t bother fighting it. Pork was a well behaved creature, he didn’t often demand treats, so he let it happen. It made everyone happy after all.

 

Yuri watched with little interest as Viktor fed Pork some pork. It seemed vaguely inappropriate but Yuri didn’t have the energy to point it out. He clicked his phone screen on, ostensibly to check the time. Actually, on a level that he was in no way admitting to anyone at all, he was checking for messages. Maybe, just in case.

 

It’s just that there weren’t any.

 

“You could text him you know.” He heard Viktor laugh even though he wasn’t actively doing so. Yuri immediately turned the screen off.

 

“Text who?” he tried.

 

“Oh please, Yuri. You’re at subtle as a hammer. You like the baker. I saw your face this morning when you got the delivery.”

 

Yuri glared without heat. “And Phichit couldn’t keep his huge mouth closed.”

 

“That too, yes,” Viktor acknowledged, feeding Pork some more pork.

 

“It’s nothing,” Yuri said, but couldn’t put any authenticity into the lie, so he added. “At the moment. It’s just flirting. I met him four days ago for fuck’s sake.”

 

“And yet you’re checking your messages every five minutes.”

 

“I do  _ not _ ,” Yuri retorted, resolutely pushing his phone away and snatching up his fork again.

 

“Don’t be mulish, Yurochka,” Viktor appealed but his smile belied his sincerity. “It’s nice to see you into someone. It’s been ages. Years, even.”

 

“I date,” Yuri protested half-heartedly.

 

“And somehow I’ve never seen you care enough to worry about opening the kitchen door on time.”

 

“I run a business. You stay here maybe ten days out of the year, don’t tell me what I do and don’t do. And stop feeding him so much meat, he’ll get sick.”

 

Viktor, long used to and now immune to Yuri’s general ire, continued to stroke Pork but stopped feeding. After a longish pause he cleared his throat.

 

“JJ says ‘hi’.”

 

Yuri immediately picked up his bowl and moved away. He couldn’t go far or even hide, since the loft was entirely open plan. He went to sit in the faded blue couch that face the south side of the building, where he got a glimpse of the street then the park on the next block. It was an indicative kind of movement. The lines of his body more rigid now, the stiffness of his neck and the way he sat with his back to Viktor a clear message.

 

“Yuri,” Viktor attempted. “It’s been so long, five years at least.”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Yuri said flatly. “Or him. I honestly don’t know why you bring him up at all.”

 

“Don’t you want to move on?”

 

“I  _ have  _ moved on. I live here, run a successful business and have nine cats. What more evidence do you need?”

 

_ Moving a thousand miles away from the scene of the crime isn’t moving on _ , Viktor wanted to say, but he let it go instead.

 

“My flight is at 12 on Saturday,” he mentioned, deftly changing the subject.

 

Immediately, Yuri’s recalcitrance vanished as if it were never there. “You want me to take you?”

 

Yuri didn’t have a car, but Viktor knew he would hire a taxi for him if he asked. He smiled at his cousin, “No, I’ll find my way. I know it’s your busiest day.”

 

“I’ll still see you off though,” Yuri said, turning his body and resting his elbow on the couch back. “Sorry you couldn’t visit longer.”

 

“Next time,” Viktor promised.

 

The night faded into mild, casual chatter of two friends who had known each other too long to recall when they didn’t, discussing things in such a way that wouldn’t have made sense to an outsider, threaded with invisible shadows of past history and connected experience. Eventually, they both ended up on the fold out, watching one of Yuuri’s speeches Viktor had recorded, and they didn’t notice the dark descend.

-8-

“So I hired this new guy,” Phichit said, leaning on one hand lazily, stretching his face like putty and making him seem vaguely drunk. Yuri was making coffee for him and the customers, as had become a weird, unintentional tradition. He gave away so much free coffee, it was a wonder he was still in the black. But his neighbour often came over in the middle of the day when he got bored at his own shop, and proceeded to spend the entire time playing with his phone and rambling inanely to Yuri.

 

This day however, he had brought a box of sugar dusted donuts as a tacit apology for his overstepping the day before, which Yuri took politely and put under the counter. The gesture would have meant more if anyone damn well remembered that he didn’t eat sweet things. He’d add it to the display case later.

 

“So?” Yuri inquired. “Your staff turnover is like a revolving door.”

 

“Yeah but this guy…” Phichit frowned and shot Yuri an unexpectedly frustrated look. “He’s like…I dunno. I can’t crack him.”

 

“’Crack him’ meaning?”

 

“Like,” Phichit said, dropping is phone so he could use both hands to express himself. “He doesn’t laugh, or smile. At all. He has this resting bitch face that rivals even yours.”

 

Yuri shrugged off the insult. “Why did you hire him then?”

 

“He works the kitchen, so he doesn’t need to be pretty for customer’s customers or anything.” Phichit waved a hand. “Besides…it seemed like challenge.”

 

“You shouldn’t treat people like challenges,” Yuri admonished mildly, knowing it would fly right over the man’s head.

 

“I mean, look at this face,” Pichit shoved the phone in his line of sight and Yuri looked.

 

“Huh. You’re right, he looks like he drowns puppies. Don’t let him near my shop.”

 

“His name is Seunggil Lee,” Phichit said, looking mournfully at the phone screen again.

 

“Who cares if he doesn’t smile? He’s working in the kitchen for goodness’ sake,” Yuri said, putting two coffees on a tray.

 

“Because I’m charming and lovely and I make people smile,” Phichit whined. “It’s my super power.”

 

“You got the short end of that stick,” Yuri mumbled as he walked past the overly dramatic Thai.

 

“I heard that.”

 

“It would have been wasted if you hadn’t.”

 

On his way back to the counter, he spotted the off white edge of a curved back, hiding underneath the counter, just beside the bar fridge. As he got closer, he saw Quincy, body tucked into a tight ball and eyes closed. Yuri paused.

 

“Quince?” he called out. “You ok, boy?”

 

The Siamese’s eyes immediately snapped up to glare at him, an expression Yuri had known since he was at least fourteen years old, so it had no bite. He bent down, keeping his distance but making it clear he was talking to the ornery feline.

 

“What’s eating you?”

 

Quincy wasn’t the most social of cats. In fact, he was Yuri’s least friendly part of the family, which was odd for a Siamese but he made up for it in overly loud complaintive meows whenever something annoyed him. Even though he rarely let people touch him, he was beautiful to look at, with coffee tipped ears and tail and lambent yellow eyes.

 

But he didn’t complain this time, only blinked one slow, tired blink, then shut his eyes completely, staying in his tucked up form. Yuri frowned but left it at that. Quincy was his oldest cat, almost fifteen years by now, and he preferred to keep to himself more often than not. He’d leave him up in the loft if the cat would have preferred it, but he in spite of his anti-social charm, the feline couldn’t stand being alone. Which was why this whole cat-collection had started really.  

 

He stood up when the dust caught in his nose and made him sneeze. He made a mental note to vacuum over the weekend.

 

Just then Yuri noticed the small yellow pastry box on the counter, tucked right next to Phichit’s elbow. Phichit noticed and his personal drama gave way to a familiar sly smile.

 

“About time you noticed,” he sassed, nudging the box closer with his elbow. “You’ve been so busy you didn’t even see it. He dropped it off like ten minutes ago.”

 

“When?” Yuri said, pulling the box close and carefully lifting the side flaps.

 

“When you were in the back,” Phichit waved wave a negligent hand, mock pouting. “He couldn’t stay, but he looked ever so disappointed.”

 

“You’re full of shit,” Yuri retorted opening the lid.  The man opposite him leaned over shamelessly.

 

“What are  _ those _ ?” he asked.

 

“I don’t know.” Yuri replied, a smile creeping onto his face. He saw the note and snatched it before Phichit could, but it was a near thing. “God, you have no shame do you?”

 

“None,” the other man replied, swinging his dark hair from his eyes and reaching into the box to pick up one of the things. They had the shape of palmier but not the colour. He shifted a few steps back and unfolded the note while Phichit stole his gift.

 

‘ _ I hope you like these, they are my own recipe. If you do, can we go on a date? Tonight maybe? _ ’

Yuri tapped a thoughtful finger at his bottom lip before reaching forward and grabbing one of the biscuits himself, and bit.

 

The crisp pastry crumbled, and he had to bring up another hand to catch the crumbs, but the part that had gotten into his mouth was the sharp salt of cheddar and bacon and…something else tart he couldn’t name, all culminating in a decadent savoury flavour. He didn’t need to speak to see that Phichit felt the same.

 

“Oh my god.” The man breathed. “What  _ are _ these?”

 

“He just says they’re his own recipe,” Yuri shook his head, glancing at the note again.

 

“I need these in my life. And my shop,” Phichit declared, hopping off his stool and dialling madly into his phone. Yuri chuckled and went to retrieve the half-drunk coffee, knowing he wouldn’t be back to finish it. He nearly dropped the clean cup when Phichit crashed back onto the counter a minute later, looking determined and holding out his phone.

 

“He says he won’t supply me unless you say yes to the date.”

 

Yuri took the phone turning his back on Phichit so he wouldn’t see Yuri trying to talk through a stupid smile.

 

“I was going to text you, idiot,” he said.

 

“This seemed faster,” Otabek replied instantly, chirpy.

 

“This seems like blackmail.”

 

“Only if you consider withholding pastries from your friend blackmail.”

 

“I don’t, actually,” Yuri replied, darting Phichit a glance, and as expected he was leaning so far over the counter he might fall over, trying to develop super human hearing.

 

“Damn,” Otabek softly cursed over the line. “So it didn’t work?”

 

“Well, the Palmier worked.”

“They did?” This time, the delight in Otabek’s voice was obvious. “You tried one?”

 

“I’m still eating it,” Yuri said, eyeing the half palmier in his hand. “It’s very good. Your own recipe?”

 

“Invented just last night.”

 

Yuri paused, his brain slowly putting itself into gear. Then he covered his face with his arm, even though no one could see his furious blush.

 

“You invented a recipe just last night, huh?”

 

“Well, you said you didn’t like sweet stuff. So I had to improvise.”

 

Yuri nibbled at the edge of the buttery pastry, giving his teeth something to do.

 

“So,” he said eventually, “About this date….”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a recipe for Savoury Palmiers :) Not the ones in this story, but just as good.  
> http://recipesmadeeasy.co.uk/savoury-palmiers/


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A date, a happy and a sad.

It was a date. It was the datiest date Yuri had ever been on.

Except it was just a little bit different. The way coffee tastes different when you add milk. Switching a movie to surround sound. It was just _better._

He hadn’t quite dressed up but he’d made an effort at least, with snug jeans that hadn’t been in the laundry more than a day or two and a shirt that clean shirt that was wasted since he’d had to wear a jacket over it. He compromised by choosing the one with leopard print panels, even though it was slightly too cold to wear something so thin. But dammit, he had to prove he didn’t only ever wear work clothes. Since the place they were meeting up wasn’t far, he walked it, and when he saw Otabek’s light up like early Christmas when he came into view, he felt like it really wouldn’t have mattered what he’d worn anyway.

As Yuri caught the wide, elastic smile on Otabek’s face directed at him, he couldn’t really pretend it was for any other reason than the man next to him was the reason for it. They’d gone to dinner and eaten good food, shared a bottle of wine that made Yuri’s legs warm and his tongue a little loose. They’d argued about dessert, since Yuri didn’t want any and Otabek wanted his opinion on wither they made better cake than he did or not. Even though Yuri pointed out that he wouldn’t be able to say, since he hadn’t even tried Otabek’s cake, he was still persuaded one bite of the carrot cake. Then he promised that if he ever did taste Otabek’s version, it wouldn’t be as good, by virtue of it not being from Beka Bakes and loyalty was loyalty after all.

Then they strolled through the night market, the night cool but not cold enough to chase away vendors and patrons alike. They talked about cats, and bikes and how much they both hated black and white horror movies. They argued whether Frank Sinatra was better than Michael Buble, and agreed that as long as you could dance to it, it wasn’t all bad either way. They debated getting something warm to drink because it was obvious neither of them wanted to go home, and the slow meandering walk they were on took them out the other end of the street market and they walked along the well-lit avenue, each deep into the other and not even noticing when people moved out of their way to walk by.

Yuri’s hand were deep in his jeans pockets, and he felt pleasantly tired. Not sleepy, but...passively content. Warm inside and out.

“What?” Otabek asked and Yuri glanced up.

“What?”

“You were smiling.” Otabek pointed out.

“I was?” Yuri said, then laughed. “Yeah I guess. I’m just…having a good time.”

“Good date then?”

“Definitely in my top five.”

“Then I’ll have to take you on at least four more dates.”

Yuri burst out laughing, too relaxed to care if people heard. The answering smile on Otabek’s face made him feel welcome to it.

“You come on really strong you know that?” he said.

“I’m not usually like this I swear.” Otabek said, shaking his head. “Honestly, five been waiting for you to just tell me to back off.”

“Maybe I should.” Yuri replied. “I don’t want to come across as easy.”

“You don’t.” Otabek told him. “You come across as worth it.”

“Worth what?” Yuri said, stopping and turning to face him.

“Anything.” Otabek said frankly.

Yuri was nonplussed.

“I…don’t get you. I…really don’t.” Yuri admitted out loud.

Otabek’s face held a glimmer of worry then. “What do you mean?”

Yuri shrugged, turning and going to sit on a bench nearby. The night sky was completely hidden by tall trees and wide leaves, chased away by yellow electric light. Otabek came to sit next to him wordlessly.

“I just mean…you’re something. Look at you,” Yuri gestured. “Bakers arms and…the rest.”

“The rest?” Otabek quirked a teasing eyebrow.

“Shut up. You know exactly what I mean.” Yuri said. “Me... I don’t really date. You could have flirted with someone a lot easier. Simpler.”

“I don’t think you’re difficult.”

“I can be.” Yuri shifted a little, not looking his way. “You don’t know me, really.”

“That’s the point of dating, though. To get to know a person. And I really do want to get to know you.”

Otabek said this with such an open face, guileless and impossible Yuri could barely believe it. But in spite of being careful, of keeping his distance, here this Baker came clumping over in biker boots and eager smiles and savoury pastries and suddenly Yuri couldn’t quite remember the reason for the rules.

“So is owning a cat café a dream of yours or did it just happen?” Otabek asked suddenly.

Yuri drew in a breath.

“That’s a sort of long story.” Yuri said. Looking at Otabek sidelong. “You sure you wanna hear it?”

“I’m sure it’s more interesting than me taking over my father’s business, so yes.”

Yuri hunched his shoulders a little from the chill settling over him from sitting, no longer moving, “it’s a bit boring. Basically, my grandfather died and he left me a lot of money and a cat, so I bummed around a bit, and a friend told me about cat cafes. It seemed like a good idea so I did it.”

Otabek gave him a disbelieving look. “You just opened a cat café on a whim? You didn’t even study hospitality or anything?”

Yuri barked a laugh. “No, I was actually into figure skating at the time.”

Otabek’s eyes nearly fell out of his head. “No way.”

“Way.” Yuri nodded. “When my grandfather died…well, I just couldn’t carry on doing it. It was something we did together.”

Otabek fell silent, and Yuri was grateful he didn’t try to add some overused condolence into the conversation.

“So…you were grieving?”

Yuri looked at him, and saw that Otabek wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t pitying either. He was just…waiting.

“Yeah. That, and some other stuff.” Yuri hedged.

“I’m guessing that this story isn’t as boring as you led me to believe.” Otabek said. “And you’re feeling a bit uncomfortable talking about it.”

Yuri opened his mouth to respond but he didn’t exactly know what to say. He hadn’t spoken about any of this, at all, since it happened. Except maybe to Viktor when he couldn’t avoid it. But Otabek pushed off the bench and held out his hand, smiling warmly. ”it’s ok, we don’t have to get into anything you don’t want to tell me.”

Yuri studied the hand for a moment, then slipped his hand from his jacket pocket and took it. It was so unnecessary, he didn’t need help getting up from a damn bench. But not his hand was holding Otabek hand, and it was warm and dry and soft, and it seemed like a good place for his hand to stay. Neither of them mentioned it before they fell into step and carried on walking to wherever.

“I don’t think I mind.” Yuri said. “It just happened a while ago. And I suppose…if you want to date me, you should know why I don’t. Date, I mean. Usually.”

Otabek didn’t say anything, but there was a light squeeze where their fingers linked and Yuri felt affirmed by it.

“I wasn’t always the well-behaved angel you see before you right now.” he said with mock seriousness. “I was actually kind of a little shit.”

Otabek’s face broke into a wide smile. “Were you now?”

“Oh yes. Cuss mouth and everything. I gave my grandfather most of his grey hairs.” Yuri went on. “it was just him and me you know. He raised me when my parents died when I was a baby. Anyway, when I hit teenager hood I was, well, a handful. I used to do all the clichés; sneaking out, drinking, parties, bribing my way into clubs…that kind of thing.”

“A misspent youth then?” Otabek asked with a grin.

“I wouldn’t say ‘misspent’.” Yuri said shaking his head. “I learned a lot of lessons the hard way, but I still learned them, at least. And I had a lot of fun. But anyway, so my grandfather was…not very progressive. When it came to sexuality, his brain was still in mother Russia. So a lot of the sneaking around I did was with guys.”

“Oh.” Otabek said, nodding. Their hand were still linked, swinging slightly between them.

“Yeah. He didn’t know a thing and I worked really hard to keep it from him. He would have...I dunno. Anyway. There was this guy.” Here Yuri breathed out a harsh breath through his nose. “JJ. We had been on and off, nothing serious. But he wanted something more and I didn’t. We had a big dumb fight and the next thing I knew he had told everyone who would listen that I was the faggot he’d been kissing in the bedrooms at parties.”

It was a bitter memory, but it didn’t tug the heart-string it used to. Yuri went on, wanting to end the story fast. “It got back to him, my grandfather. He was shocked, unhappy. He didn’t speak to me for days and then…well, he had this heart attack. He managed another day or so in hospital before his heart gave out properly. And that was it.”

They walked on a few steps before Otabek’s hand gripped and halted them both, without letting go. Yuri was turned to face him, but he looked away quickly. He didn’t want to see _that_ expression.

“That’s shit.” Otabek said eventually.

Yuri kicked at the dirt with the toe of his shoe. “It happened a while ago. So I inherited the money, and his cat Quincy and had to figure things out.”

“And you moved here.” Otabek said, his tone like he as working something out.

“Well, first I went to France, then Japan, but I ended up here, yeah. Quincy didn’t like the travelling and I had to settle.”

More silence and Yuri felt enormously dumb just then, and he pulled his hand away, stuffing it back in his pocket, laughing falsely. “I don’t know why I told you all that. This is supposed to be a nice evening out.”

“hey.” Otabek said, his own touching Yuri’s elbow. “It’s ok. I’m glad I know more about you. I’m still having a good time.”

“Sure.” Yuri replied, flatly disbelieving.

“No, hey.” Otabek said more firmly “look at me, huh?”

Yuri found enough guts to look at Otabek sidelong. The man was wearing a half smile.

“I mean it. You’re here, you look….” A sigh.” Great, and you told me something real about you. I like everything about tonight.”

Yuri huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I’ve been having a good time too.”

“so.” Otabek said, holding his empty hand out again. “If you like, you can tell me about Quincy?”

Yuri eyed the hand but gave in again, their fingers interlocking seamlessly. “You don’t need to know much. He’s in a permanent bad mood, and tolerates me at best.”

“Does he like the other cats?”

“Barely.” Yuri said. “But I think I want to hear about you now.”

Otabek blinked, a little taken aback. “Me? What do you want to know?”

Yuri canted his head to give him a sly look. “Tell me about your bike. And I don’t mean about its gears and pistons or that boring shit. I mean how you got it.”

“Gears and pistons are not boring. I built it myself you know.” Otabek shot back laughing.

“Oh my god you didn’t…”

 

-8-

 

Otabek, of course, insisted on walking Yuri back to the shop.

“It must be nice to own your place.” He said. They weren’t holding hands anymore, but they were close, shoulders brushing against one another in ways that weren’t accidental or unwelcome.

“Yeah. I used to rent a place with my cousin in St Petersburg, but it always felt like I was putting money into someone else’s pocket.” Yuri said. “And since I had the money…let just say I didn’t feel like hunting for a place that allowed cats.”

“Did you already have nine then?”

“No!” Yuri said quickly. “No, I only had Quincy, but the idea was there and I didn’t want the hassle of dealing with nit-picky landlords. If I went through with it. And since then I’ve just sort of…acquired more, over time.”

“I think it’s great, being able to live where you work, doing what you love.”

“Look, opening a café was hard. I knew fuck all about it, and went on a few courses before I even really got started. But I’ve hit a rhythm, now.” Yuri agreed. “But it’s not always a good thing since I barely leave the shop unless I have to.”

Even though he owned his space, it wasn’t as easy as it sounded. But it was still worth that industrial vacuum cleaner, constant piles of cat hair in the corners of his rooms, and nine sets of vaccinations every year. Moving to Maine had been the best way, the only way to heal, no matter what Viktor thought.

They arrived at Yuri’s door and stopped, Yuri feeling a combination of disappointed, eager and awkward.

“Um, I go in through the shop, so this is me. You didn’t’ have to walk me back.” He said, even though he had enjoyed every single minute of it.

“I wanted to.” Otabek said as they faced each other. “A lot.”

“Thanks then.” Yuri replied then stuttered, unsure what to say next. Internally, he was screaming at himself. He was acting like he hadn’t been on a fucking date before.

“See you tomorrow?” he settled for lamely.

“Yuri.” Otabek said quietly, his name like warm and soft in his mouth, and Yuri blinked up at him, cursing that he was so short.

“I really enjoyed myself tonight.” Otabek said, stepping a little closer.

Yuri stood his ground, enjoying the proximity, though warnings sounded in his head. “Me too.”

“So can we do this again?”

“Dating?” Yuri squeaked, and Otabek nodded with a grin.

Yuri cleared his throat but Otabek wasn’t done.

“I meant what I said before.” He said, earnest eyes sincerely and bright despite the dark of the street. “I don’t usually…come on this strong. I… I date, sometimes, but I can honestly say that I haven’t been this into anyone in a really long time. There’s nothing about you I don’t like.”

“You barely know me.” Yuri breathed uncertainly, wishing he would stop smiling. “Maybe I’m a total asshole.”

“I don’t think you’ve been anything other than who you are so far.” Otabek retorted. “Am I right?”

Yuri felt a little sprinkle of tension settle on his shoulders but he shook his head. “No, I don’t lie. But it’s like I said, you barely know me. I barely know you.”

“That’s what dating is for, remember?”

 _Shit_. “True.” He replied. _But it always starts like this doesn’t it?_

_But I want it, just for a little longer. This guy…_

“Yeah ok.” He gave in. “But next time, it’s my date.”

The smile on Otabek’s face threatened to crack him open, displaying perfectly straight teeth. “Anything you say.”

Yuri felt a completely inappropriate thrill travel up his spine like a spider and settle in the roots of his hair at that. He had half a thought that a kiss might be coming but the idea was blasted away when he sneezed, not once, but twice. He covered his face and embarrassment with his hands.

“God, excuse me.” he laughed softly. “Someone must be thinking of me.”

“It’s me, I’m thinking of you.” Otabek replied whip fast making Yuri smile, but he still regretted the loss of the potential kiss. But the moment was gone and it was pointless to try bring it back.

“Ok, now really goodnight. Don’t you have to get up in four hours?” Yuri said, stepping back, face and neck pleasantly warm.

Otabek shrugged nonchalantly. “Six, but I don’t care.”

Yuri shook out his keys and slotted them into the lock. “Is that you asking for a coffee?”

“It is _now_.”

He opened the door, head cocked back towards his date. “Ok, but it’s just a coffee. This isn’t like ‘Netflix and chill’ code for…” his voice trailed off and the good humour was washed away by dread.

“Quincy!” he breathed shallowly dashing forward. The cat was half crouched in the middle of the shop floor, partly in a poll of vile smelling vomit that had soaked into the his fur. “No, baby, _no_ , oh shit-“

“What’s wrong?” Otabek voice came up behind him, then his breath sucked in in a quick hiss. “Shit. What happened?”

“He’s sick.” Yuri said, picking up the feline who was all but limp in his arms, protesting with a feeble meow. If nothing else had happened, Yuri would have known something was up because this cat had never once in his life let Yuri pick him up. “I have to get to the emergency vet centre.”

“I’ll call an Uber.” Otabek responded immediately, and Yuri looked up at him from where he crouched on the floor, Quincy cradled loosely in his arms.

“Don’t bother. They won’t allow animals. There’s a taxi company number on the coffee machine by the counter. Call that.”

He let his fingers gently scratch Quincy’s ear, and noticed that the corners of his gums were loose, stained yellow with the bile from his vomit. He checked his eyes and muscles, going over the basics of food poisoning. He cursed the fact that he’d been so excited about the date, he hadn’t bothered to notice if Quincy had eaten his dinner or not. Judging from the mess on the floor and its accompanying smell, he hadn’t. His throat closed with the guilt.

“They’re on their way.” Otabek’s voice filtered in through his distress.

“Ok.” Yuri said, tilting Quincy’s head up a little and grateful to find there was still some tension there. “It’s ok. You’ll be ok.”

 

-8-

“He’s just old, Mr Plisetsky.” The vet, whose name Yuri hadn’t quite gotten, told him consolingly. “It’s nothing you did. It happens to some cats.”

“Don’t tell me ‘ _he’s just old’_.” Yuri replied, rejecting her words, then regretful. “I’m sorry, I know I’m being rude. I just…he’s never been sick, not once. Not since the moment we brought him home.”

“And that was what? Maybe fifteen years ago?” the woman said, her face suffused with understanding. “You’ve taken such good care of him, he is in great shape for a cat his age. But this breed is also known for having complications.”

Yuri’s hand was lightly tracing the little dip at the base of Quincy’s ears, velvet smooth and creamy white. The feline in question was unconscious on the doctors table and even though it wasn’t Yuri’s first or even fifth time bringing a cat to the vet, the sight made him feel nauseous. Quincy had always been a constant, always bitchy, always aloof and always steady. To see him with his painfully exposed vulnerability was _wrong_.

“Is he ok now?” Yuri said, still watching his charge.

“Mr Plisetsky...” she said in that voice he hated, like it was more sigh than word. “He is fine for now. But it’s a matter of time. I’m sorry.”

“I can take him home?” he persisted.

She moved off to pull some bottles from a cupboard, her expression the one of doctors everywhere who have to give bad news to those who don’t want to hear it. “I have some meds for him, here. The dosage is on the labels.” She handed them over and made sure she caught his eye. “And you should take something too. Or that cold is going to get nasty.”

Yuri’s guilt ridden concern gave way to confusion. “Huh?”

“You’ve been sneezing constantly since you got here, and sniffing. Haven’t you even noticed?”

Yuri retracted into himself a little. He’d put his general feeling of shittiness down to being awake at 1AM , dressed not nearly warm enough and having to bring his grandfather’s cat to emergency care. But now that she mentioned it, the headache pushed at his temples, making him blink, his eyes felt scratchy and every time he sniffed, there was just more to follow. He took the suddenly offered tissue from the box she held out and blew his nose.

“It’s nothing, I’ll sleep it off.” He said. “Can I take him home?”

She nodded. “Sure thing. Look, I know it’s hard, but he is showing his age. It’s not just his stomach, it’s his hips that are showing signs of dysplasia, his eyes are starting to develop a glassiness…you need to accept that thing might go downhill from here fast.”

“Thank you.” Yuri said swallowing a lump in his throat, meaning it sincerely even though it didn’t sound like it. He was always extremely grateful to veterinarians who stayed awake until all hours for the love of animals. He wrapped Quincy up on the blanket on which he lay, still floppy from the drugs, as tenderly as a mother with a baby. Using his free hand his shoved the pill bottles in his back pocket and spared one last nod for the doctor before shuffling out the door.

Otabek was seated in the comfortable waiting room, legs played but his face blank. It was so unlike anything Yuri had seen on his normally mobile face, he was momentarily shocked. But as soon as the man heard him enter, his face snapped forward and flooded with concern.

“Is he ok?”

Yuri couldn’t go into it, his exhaustion and sadness fusing into one hot mess. “For now. He is still out of it, so I have to take him home.”

Otabek stood, already dialling his phone. “Great, I’ll call a cab.”

Yuri smothered a deep sigh, closing his eyes for a moment because they felt so dam heavy.

“Hey have you been crying?” Otabek asked, voice suddenly close. When Yuri opened his eyes, the man was a hands span away, frowning with worry.

“What? No.” Yuri said, sniffing. “It looks like I’m sick, a bit.”

“Ah shit.”

“My sentiments exactly.”

“I just want to go home.”

Otabek came close, hugging Yuri around the shoulders and pressing a kiss to his forehead in a gesture so unexpectedly intimate, Yuri didn’t even realise it at first. It should not have felt so natural, but it did. It should not have been so comforting, but it was.

“Uh,” Otabek said, pulling away and huffing a laugh. “Sorry, that was…”

“No, it’s ok.” Yuri said, eking out a smile. “I’m sorry this date ended so badly.”

“Don’t apologise.” Otabek told him, and Yuri felt unexpectedly happy he was there. “Life happens right?”

Yuri sniffed. “Right.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a heads up, this story will end in another two or three chapters max :P
> 
> cute songs for this little ficlet:   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cwkej79U3ek - Accidentally in Love  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QUypt2nvorM - A thousand miles  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8N-qO3sPMjc - Kiss Me


	7. Medi-sip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short one, just some cute. pffft, like the rest of this fic.

Once, when he had been younger, cocky and still fairly new to advanced figure skating, Yuri had tried a triple axel, in spite of his coaches warning not to. Looking back he felt like he could slap his younger self, but at the time it was ego and frustration at the slow nature of personal growth that had spurred him on, causing him to ignore that he was too close to the barrier. He’d flubbed it, badly, crashing into the ice at the wrong angle, his skate taking chunks from its surface, his knees locking and his body following the momentum, swinging him hard into the barrier. He’d bruised his shoulder and temple, leaving with a chastising headache for days.

This headache was a lot like that headache, except that came with the added bonus of a stuffed nose, swollen tear filled eyes and his body feeling generally cold, shivery and achy. It took him several minutes to surface from the miasma of his sickness and recall where he was. And more importantly what day it was.

“Shiiiiit…” he groaned with feeling, realising that the sun was up and he hadn’t gone down to open up yet. He dragged his gown on with shaking limbs, sniffing enormously, then hacking out a cough, the regretting it because that _fucking hurt_.

Only Biscuit was at his heels as he trudged carefully down the stairs, gripping the banister hard and blinking through tear blurred vision. The rest were probably down already, waiting longingly for breakfast.

 _I’ll open the back and feed the kids_ , he forced himself to think in a straight line. _Then I’ll go back, take a shower. A shower will help. I can open a little late today…_

He was already two steps into the kitchen when he stopped, a hallucination of someone in his kitchen, doing something at the stove top, its cobwebs clearly having been wiped away.

“Max?” Yuri said, voice like meat grinder, and coughed again. The teen glanced up and made a disgusted face.

“Dude you look shit.” He said, wrinkling his nose slightly. “Like…wow.”

“Max?” Yuri repeated stupidly. “What are you doing in my kitchen?”

Max slid a spatula under something in the pans, filling the air with the sound of sizzling. “Making burgers. Have ever used the stove? It had, like, this much dust on it.” Max replied, holding up his fingers with a small space between.

“What’s happening right now?” Yuri said, coming forward, “why aren’t you at school?”

“It’s Saturday.” Max said, chuckling. “You must be really out of it. You look like a vampire. Except not all glittery and shit. Hey, Vic! He’s up!”

Yuri’s eyes narrowed with some retort, but was stopped short when Viktor came through the swing door, wearing his apron and Pork resting his arms.

“Yuri! You woke up.” Viktor got a good look at him. “Oh, but its looks like you shouldn’t have. You should right back to bed.”

“Viktor.” Yuri said, sniffing. “What the fuck is going on? Why is Max making…is that burgers?”

“We’re expanding the menu.” Max said over his shoulder, flashing a grin worthy of a toothpaste advert.

“Yes. I can make a decent cream cheese bagel, but I don’t fry.” Viktor said nodding. “And Phichit is taking care of the beverage orders.”

“He’s what?” Yuri said flatly. Viktor dropped Pork on the floor and came closer, turning Yuri by his shoulders and redirecting him to the stairs.

“Come on,” he said understandingly. “I’ll explain when you’re back in bed.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be on a plane?”

 

-8-

 

 

Viktor refused to answer until he was at least sitting down again. As good as it felt not to be on his feet, his anxiety wouldn’t leave him.

“Viktor I have to open the shop.” He said, dropping into Russian because it was simpler, rubbing his face and grabbing a tissue from the box Viktor offered.

 He then moved away and set the kettle to boil. “Of course. It’s done. You don’t have to worry about a thing. Do you have any medi-sip? Or anything for a cold?”

“It’s done?” Yuri repeated. “How?”

“I bet you don’t.” Viktor went on, grabbing a mug from the cupboard. “Good thing Otabek, the darling, brought some with the delivery this morning.”

“Viktor.” Yuri growled warningly.

Viktor was tearing a small sachet open and dumping its powdery contents into the mug. “You came home so late last night, remember? Anyway, anyone with eyes could see you were going to be ten times worse this morning. After you put Quincy in his basket,” here Viktor turned to give Yuri a cheerful smile, “who is _so_ much better this morning, by the way, Max gave him his meds. “ Viktor stirred the mug with a flourish then brought the steaming concoction to Yuri. “I moved my flight. Yuuri doesn’t mind. I knew that you would push yourself to open the shop today and do everything on your own, and I decided I could help you.”

“Viktor,” Yuri breathed, able only to sense the heat from the mug not smell it, but its deep yellow colour seemed deeply suspicious. “I’m fine. It’s not like I haven’t been sick before. What is this?”

“Its medi-sip, lemon flavour. And you are sick enough not to wake up to Quincy and Crunchy’s yowling, which is what woke _me_.”

“Ah shit.” Yuri said, taking a cautious sip. It burned at first going down, but then his throat felt mildly soothed and he sighed. “Sorry.”

Viktor waved an elegant hand. “Don’t worry about a thing. Max is cooking the odd burger, and the food is more than passable. Phichit makes a truly delightful coffee, and a bunch of other things, and I’m serving.”

“Phichit’s what?” Yuri felt like this was a lot of information to absorb. “He doesn’t know how to do any of that. That’s why he hires people do to everything for him. And should Max be cooking? Isn’t he underage?”

“Phichit is just lazy. You should see him at the counter, he charms everyone and makes cappuccino faster than you. He volunteered instantly when he heard you were ill and it was clear I didn’t know what I was doing. Then Max arrived and you know Phichit loves to recruit so. He’s sixteen, but it’s not like we’re paying him, so it’s not a problem. Drink up.”

Viktor had titled the mug up towards his mouth and Yuri gave in reluctantly. He was feeling slightly less shitty.

“Your beau dropped that off this morning with the delivery, and goodness me if he doesn’t have the sweetest concerned face.” Viktor added with a grin.

Yuri focussed on swallowing his mouthful so he wouldn’t accidentally Smack Viktor would the cup. “Not my beau.”

“Your whatever, then.” Viktor said, still smiling. “He took you to the vet last night, didn’t he? And stayed?”

“Yeah.” Yuri said, looking down into his cup. He’d paid the taxi but it amounted to the same thing. “Quincy ok?”

“Oh yes, that grumpy old rat is just fine.” Viktor said with a slightly bitter tone. He’d never been fond of the creature and the feeling was mutual. “He perked right up after Max gave him the meds.

“But listen-“Yuri started.

“No.” Viktor replied, the word like a mild slap on the wrist. “You’re going back to bed. What you need now is rest. Everything is fine and handled. Trust me.”

“My shop is being run by my skater cousin, my nosy neighbour and one of my underage customers. I am not relieved.” Yuri protested, but he was already moving back to his bed.

“Don’t worry about waking up, you just sleep.” Viktor said, patting his shoulder.

Yuri folded himself back inside his blankets with a sigh, not caring to remove his robe. A moment later, he felt the light shaking of the mattress and Biscuit joined him, tapping at his shoulder to be let in under the covers. Yuri lifted the edge, waited for Biscuit to crawl in, then gave up on keeping his eyes open.

Before consciousness gave up the battle, his head swam with thoughts of Max burning himself with hot oil, Phichit demanding customers take selfies with him, and Viktor getting scathed to ribbons by rabid cats.

And soft, yeasty smelling bakers, handing over tissues.

-8-

Besides waking once very briefly to go pee, Yuri slept the whole day. Any niggling concerns were enveloped by being thoroughly ill. He’d been sick before, but never so severely, and in all honesty if Viktor hadn’t stepped in, he would have had to close the shop and shivered helplessly under blankets instead. He finally woke up, still feeling like all his airways were stuffed, and feeling generally awful. But the light in the kitchen as on, and he heard voices. As he approached, he blinked against the light that felt to sharp.

Phichit and Viktor watched him approach with similar looks of pity.

“Aw honey, you look terrible.” Phichit said, his hand in a bowl of chips.

“Thanks.” Yuri croaked, going to the fridge to grab some water and switch the kettle on.

“You should still be in bed.” Viktor chided, going to the cupboard and hiding him a glass.

“I need some more stuff.” Yuri waved vaguely. “Tissues, that piss-coloured drink, etc.”

Viktor chuckled and Phichit tilted his head. “I love your place, Yuri.” He said significantly. “Viktor was so surprised I’d never seen it, since we’ve lived next door for three years.”

“He shouldn’t be” Yuri grumbled, not bothering to look at him.

“Not that I haven’t asked.” Phichit went on. “Why wouldn’t you invite a friend up for a coffee, hmm?”

“Because I figured you’d try to jump me.” Yuri answered bluntly.

Viktor tutted and Pichit snorted a laugh.

“Forgive him, he has no filter when sick.” Viktor said to Phichit but giving Yuri a frown. Yuri shrugged and Phichit waved it off.

“Don’t worry, he’s probably right. I had such a crush the first year or so.”

Yuri took the proffered sachet from Viktor, his chastisement not getting into the way of helping Yuri feel better. “Yeah, me and ten other guys.”

“I like to keep my options open.” Phichit said, shrugging, innocent of any shame.

“No kidding.” Yuri said. ‘Open’ was an understatement. “Anyway, you still managed to get in here today, so I hope your curiosity is satisfied. Also, I’m never sleeping with you.”

“I figured that out ages ago.” Phichit replied. “Besides, I got to know you. We are _totally_ better as friends.”

Yuri humphed a reply, pouring hot water into his mug. “Did today go ok?”

“It went perfectly.” Viktor told him, putting the back of his hand to Yuri’s forehead. “Stop thinking about it. We’re not incompetent.”

“Apparently.” Yuri said, shooting a look to Phichit.

“I never actually _said_ I couldn’t make coffee.” Phichit said in response. “I just don’t like doing it. I have people for that sort of thing.”

“Hmm, no fever.” Viktor said taking his hand away when Yuri pushed it. “Just a horrible head cold. We can take you to the doctor tomorrow-“

“No thank you.” Yuri said as firmly as possible with a severely blocked nose. “I’ll sleep it off. I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

“No you won’t.” Viktor replied as firmly. “Fine if you don’t want to see the doc, but you’re staying in bed until you aren’t blowing your nose anymore. That’s if you don’t develop a secondary infection.”

“Sure mom.” Yuri said, taking a sip, and Viktor crossed his arms.

“I’ve moved my flight up a week. Phichit has agreed to help, and so has Max. Even Otabek said he’ll come by after deliveries if we need anything. So yes, ‘mom’ it is.”

Yuri was too ill to care too much, but he was also low key grateful and he decided to stop being an ass.

“Thanks Vitya.” He said quietly. “I mean it.”

Viktor’s eyes softened and he touched Yuri’s head softly. “No problem. I haven’t been there for you much since you came over to this country, so I’m glad to help now.”

A knock sounded at the door. “Speaking of help.” Phichit said, leaping up to open it.

“Who else are you inviting into my home? I collect cats, not humans.” Yuri asked Viktor with a growly tone and Viktor held up his hands in innocence.

“Not me.” he replied as Phichit opened the door on a stranger with a face that looked carved from stone.

“Seung-gil!” Phichit greeted with his usual loud cheer. “Just in time. The patient has awoken and we are starving.”

Yuri realised he was fairly hungry, but he couldn’t stop staring at the man at his door, holding a white packet of some takeaways. So this was the new guy? Even as he watched Phichit slather the charm on like thick butter, and it sliding off the man like he was hot toast.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join us?” Phichit said, bouncing a little on his toes.

Seung-gil gave Phichit such a blank look Yuri wondered if he’d even understood the question. Then he said, ‘No.” gave Pichit the bag and tramped back down the stairs... Pichit closed the door with an aggravated sigh. Then returned, putting the bag down and pouting.

“Should you be asking your new employee to deliver food after hours?” Yuri asked eventually, observing the unfamiliar crease in Phichit smooth brow.

“I invited him to eat with us.” Phichit responded, open the packet and perusing the contents. “He followed the order exactly, but only got for us, the bastard.”

Ignoring the fact that Phichit was casually inviting people into his home, he said, “He’s a bastard because he got the food you asked him to get?”

“No, he’s a bastard because…ugh. I don’t know. You saw him. Do you think he’s ever smiled in his life?” Yuri observed Pichit angrily removing boxes from the packet, frowning and seeming unnaturally ruffled. Viktor caught his eyes and waggled an eyebrow. Then realisation dawned and Yuri rolled his eyes.

“Phichit you’ve known him two days. And he works for you. You can’t _like_ him.”

Phichit threw down the plastic cutlery, still wrapped in a napkin. “I don’t! I just…aaarg. He’s like a wall. I’ve never met someone like him. I don’t _like_ him.” Yuri silently watched as the Thai drew out the fork and stabbed them into the open boxes of sweet and sour pork and fried rice. “Why would I even consider someone who looks like he eats lemons and read Edgar Allen Poe for fun? Ridiculous.”

“Uh huh.” Viktor said, taking plates out and laying them out for dishing up.

“If I could just get him to laugh. Or even just grin.” Pichit grumbled to himself.

They ate, the chatter switching to stories from the day, Yuri trying not to worry about them running his beloved café, and to ordinary things. Yuri’s belly only had half a bowls worth of space, but soon he had retreated to the couch, with Burgundy, biscuit and Ashes taking their place on his legs, a sure sign that he’d been missed. He petted them each in turn, but eventually they made themselves comfortable and drifted into that steady cat-like stupor that was somewhere between sleep and waking, while Ashes made little ‘mrrrp’ sounds when Yuri tickled his chin.

He’d found his phone where he’d dumped it the night before, wedged between the couch pillows and was happily surprised to see several messages from Otabek.

 **Bb** : _hey, you doing ok? I dropped off some meds, wasn’t sure if you had any._

 **Bb** : _I guess you’re not, since your cousin picked up the delivery this morning. His accent is a lot thicker than yours_.

 **Bb** : _wait, is he the one who adopted Pork?_

**Bb** _: I stopped by to say hey, but they said you’re still upstairs. Sounds like you’re really ill. Let me know if I can help._

**Bb** : _kind of missed you today_.

Yuri sniffed, nose thick with snot, but still managed a smile.

 **Y** : _stalker_.

Yuri was unsurprised when he got a text back almost instantly.

 **Bb** : _how am I a stalker? I am just your friendly neighbourhood baker_.

 **Y** : _I leave my phone for less than a day and I have five messages_.

 **Bb** : _I am *very* friendly._

 **Y** : _joking aside, thanks for the help and concern. And for last night_.

 **Bb:** _imp glad I was there to help_.

 **Y** : _me too._

 **Bb** : _you still sick_?

 **Y** : _my cousin telling me to stay in bed the next two days says that I probably am. And yes he is the one who went and adopted a cat that nearly killed his husband. He’s an idiot sometimes._

 **Bb** : _why Pork though?_

Yuri huffed a laugh as he replied.

 **Y** : _the real name is Katsudon (pork cutlet bowl in Japanese) which is Viktor’s nickname for his hubby. I think he meant it to be cute_.

**Bb** _: ...I am not sure what to say to that._

**Y** : _there is nothing to say. He’s a sappy idiot._

 **Bb** : _seems like that’s going around._ _J_

Yuri tapped the phone against his mouth before replying.

 **Y** : _um….you’re referring to yourself?_

 **Bb** : _lol. Yes_.

 **Y: _…_** _well, you’re not totally alone there_.

 **Bb** : _our date not bad then?_

 **Y** : _in spite of the fact that it ended with a trip to the vet, yes._

 **Bb** : _how is Q?_

The cat in question chose that moment to saunter through the cat flap, and Yuri sat up straight so he could see him properly. Quincy met his eyes like he was looking for Yuri, and in the next moment had leapt onto the side of the couch, sitting on its back, almost but not quite an arm’s length away from Yuri.

“You feeling better, sour puss?” Yuri murmured. Quincy’s only reply was tucking his feet under him and closing his eyes, regally turning his face into profile. When Yuri stretched out to touch his face, he lined into it for the briefest second before moving away. Yuri took a photo and sent it.

 **Y** : _looks like._

 **Bb** : _I’m glad_.

 **Bb** : _so…._

 **Bb** : _does that mean I have to wait two days to see you again?_

Yuri smiled

 **Y** : _stalker vibes, Mr Altin._

 **Bb** : _but I made you something special, Mr Plisetsky_.

“What are you smiling about?” Viktor called, and Yuri looked up to see both he and Phichit watching him like they knew _exactly_ what he was smiling about.

“If you grin any wider, your jaw might unhinge.” Phichit added with a smirk.

Yuri blew his nose loudly. “Shut up.” He mumbled.

 **Y** : _I might be able to come down for delivery pick up tomorrow. If my cousin lets me._

 

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me cos I'm beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so this is the next to last chapter :)  
> sorry for the cliffhanger...

“No,” Yuri said firmly, wiping down the table with unnecessary force.

 

“Please!” Phichit wheedled, following him as he moved to the next closest table to tidy up left over coffee and milkshake glasses. “It’ll be weird if it’s just me and Viktor.”

“You asked Viktor?” Yuri said, vaguely scandalised but knowing he should have expected it. “Of course you did. And it’s already weird to invite your employees to dinner. Especially when it just one damn employee. Just ask him out on a date and give me some peace.”

Now Phichit looked scandalised. “No! That would…no. besides vie tried that already and it didn’t work.”

Yuri straightened and raised an eyebrows at home. “You actually asked him out?”

The Thai man standing in front of him looked momentarily tortured. “eeeeyeah…sort of. I tried. I started to but he just kept staring right through me and I…lost my nerve.”

Yuri rolled his eyes and moved to sweep up the scattered shreds of cardboard left behind from a scratch box he’d put down earlier. It hadn’t last the morning. It had been a week and a half, and Phichit mild crush on his kitchen staff member had progress into full blown teenage angsty obsession. At first it was amusing, even slightly adorable, but since Phichit had stopped talking about anything else, Yuri had gotten beyond tired of the topic.  As unusual as it was for Phichit to fixate on anyone, there was only so much interest he could donate in the name of friendship.

“Find it again. You don’t need me to be at your fake dinner.”

 

“It’s not a fake dinner, it’s a real one. I’m even cooking.” Yuri snickered a little at this, then gently nudged Simba away with his foot when he started playing with the pile of debris he had been sweeping up. “It’s not funny.”

“Yes it is.” Yuri pointed out.

“You still owe me for helping out here.”

“I owe you shit, since you’ve been getting me to make you coffee for the past three years free of charge.”

“Please, Yuri!” Phichit said, falling to his knees in the centre of the floor, causing Yuri to step back. “I need a buffer. I would do it for you.”

Yuri was glad there were no customers in the shop, because Phichit certainly wouldn’t have cared even if there were. “Phichit just ask the guy out for crying in a bucket. You don’t need all this drama.”

Phichit dropped his hands into his lap, and dropped his head. “I know…I just….”

Since his heart wasn’t actually made of ice, and mindful of the fact that hadn’t mopped the floor in four days, he bent down to pull Phichit up again. “Come on.”

The man was reluctantly led to flop down into a spare chair, and ashes made himself instantly comfortable in his lap. Being such an affectionate creature, he didn’t mind when Phichit wrapped arms around him and buried his face into his fur. Yuri sat opposite and looked at his friend.

 

“Why is this so important to you?” he asked. “You don’t usually get like this over…crushes.”

“Everyone likes me.” Phichit replied, muffled by purr and fur.

“Uh huh.” Yuri said flatly.

“But he doesn’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“But what if…” Phichit said, lifting his face and staring at the floor, looking as disconsolate as Yuri had ever seen someone who sweat sunshine. “What if he really doesn’t Yuri? Like, not just in terms of romance but...as a person?”

Yuri was taken aback. Seeing his ebullient neighbour like this was like watching a bird doing backstroke; it didn’t fit. He’d gotten so used to Phichit’s trademarked sunny disposition, he’d forgotten that he was, well, human.

“Phichit...” Yuri sighed. “Even if he doesn’t, who cares? Not everyone has to like you.”

“But I want him to like me.” Phichit said in a small voice.

Oh for fucks sake, Yuri cursed hard in his mind.

“fine.” He said after a few moments passed. “I’ll come to your fake-not-fake dinner.”

Phichit wet eyes looked up at him in surprise. “You will?”

“sure.” Yuri nodded. “But just for reference sake, it doesn’t matter. You’re a great guy, even if he doesn’t like you. You can’t catch them all.”

Phichit power wattage smile was back. “Thank you! If I get out of hand, you can reel me in!”

 

“I won’t.” Yuri said, standing up again. “Didn’t you hear what I just said? You shouldn’t dumb yourself down for anyone. What’s the point, if you can’t be yourself?”

“You’re lucky though. Otabek took one look at you and, “he snapped his fingers. “He was hooked.”

“No he wasn’t.” Yuri said, turning his face away.

“Yes he was, he told me.” Phichit gave Ashes one last snuggle and put him carefully on the floor before shooting up again. “Excellent! Party for five, tomorrow night!”

Yuri halted. “Wait, five?”

Phichit turned as he was about to leave through the door. “Yes. You, me, Seuung-gil, Viktor and Otabek.”

Yuri’s eyes widened, realising he’d been played and he levelled his cloth at the man, who was now ducking out of the door cat quick and wearing an entirely too satisfied smile.

Phichit’s bizarre 180 of casual dating aside, Yuri had his own romantic concerns. Well not concerns…but yes, concerns.

Dating Otabek was like every cutely perfect rom-com flick he’d ever sat through. Yuri had dated before, sometimes more serious than not, but this was…ten days of the best days of his life, to be honest. H kept trying to remind himself that they barely knew each other, not really, not favourite colours or anything…but could you just look someone in the eyes and adore them? Every time? When watching them smile, or run a flour covered hand through their permanently untidy hair, made you struggle to breathe? He could count on one hand the amount of people whose messages he had waited for in his life, when he smiled before even picking up the phone.

Yuri had never been in love, he knew that much at 27 years old.  He knew enough to know that it was something that was or wasn’t, not something you edged against, or were unsure about.

He sort of wanted to be a bit unsure about it at the moment. But when he tripped over himself every time Otabek sent a smile at him over his shoulder, or the knowledge that it was Yuri making him laugh at something stupid, or the squeezing sensation he felt around his entire body when Otabek managed to scratch Quincy behind his ear without being maimed….well. The sense that there was never  _ enough _ , that he always wanted  _ more _ …There was that.

That was that.

He knew it would all come tumbling because Yuri was so damn used to being more into someone else than they were into him. Or at least, in the idea of a relationship. He’d given up on the idea after several completely, mortifying disasters. All rooted in the bedroom.

But Otabek was going to come out and ask soon, he knew it. Yuri hadn’t missed the confused expression when he’d broken a heated kiss and basically retreated backwards into the shop with a hasty excuse. It was not simple or easy, to watch the muscles roll under smooth, tanned skin and swallow with a dry throat, or stop himself from basically grabbing Otabek by his ears and devour his face. He just wanted in to last a little longer…but he knew it would have to come out eventually, and with it the end of the delicious thing brewing between them.

It hadn’t made him this sad before. The inevitable had never felt so heavy, before.

He pulled his phone out, the broom he’d been holding feeling suddenly too heavy for use, needing to see the familiar notification on his phone. Reliable as the rotation of the earth, there was a message from Otabek.

Bb:  _ so apparently there is this dinner tomorrow night… _

Yuri texted back with practiced fingers.

Y:  _ there is, but don’t be guilted into coming. P is twisting himself into knots over nothing _ .

Bb _ : I want to though. Especially if you’re there _ .

Y:  _ I’ll be there, dork. _

Bb:  _ can we wear matching ties _ ?

Y:  _ like you own a tie _ .

Yuri got lost in the addictive flirtation for a few minutes, making comment on the fact that unlike Otabek, he actually had to work in the middle for the day, but he still only put the phone away when the door chimed. Biscuit climbed up his jeans and settled onto his shoulder as Yuri turned, with a broad, genuine smile that had nothing to do with work.

“Welcome to Coffee Whiskers, have you- oh it’s you.”

“Nice to see you too, man.” Max said, unruffled by Yuri’s change in demeanour. “I’m here for my shift.”

Yuri crossed his arms. “You don’t work here Max.”

Max put on his best car salesman negotiation face, “about that-“

“No.” Yuri said flatly, whirling away, but Max followed as he had been doing every day since Yuri had come back to take over his shop again.

“Listen, I’m sixteen. I’m allowed to work.” Max said, snatching up the broom Yuri had neglected and holding it like a badge of honour.

“I don’t need the help.” Yuri told him. “As I have said. Already.”

“What about when you get sick again? Or go on holiday?” Max tried.

Yuri snorted. “I don’t. Ever. And getting sick was a onetime thing.”

Max ignored any kind of invisible boundaries that applied to everyone else, and Yuri internally cursed himself for basically fostering the entire thing. The fact that Simba and even Oreo meowed hopefully and followed him around was even stronger testament to that. “Come on, man. I like it here. Why can’t I work for you? I did a good job.”

“Max…” Yuri sighed. “Just no. you’re a kid. Don’t you want to go and I don’t know…commit minor felonies or something with your spare time? What about Clarisse?”

Max came to hover next to Yuri as he went to rummage around in the fridge, fishing out Quincy’s meds. “Exactly! If I’m going to take her on dates and stuff I need cash.”

“So you finally talked to her?” Yuri said, ignoring him and getting a syringe out from the drawer.

“Yes and...That’s not the point. I  _ want _ to work here. I make a damn good burger. And,” He took the syringe and bottle from Yuri’s hands, “your cats like me.”

Yuri watched as Max miraculously lured Quincy closer, putting his food bowl up on the counter and mixing his meds with soft food to mask he taste, then crooning softly to him until he’d eaten it all. He didn’t, like Yuri, wrap him in a towel and force it down the furry assholes throat. But Yuri refused to be impressed.

“Why do you know how to cook Max?” he asked quietly, watching the exaggerate nonchalance in the sixteen year old posture.

“Cant a guy know how to cook a meal?” Max replied eventually, kneeling down to pet the others who had gathered around his feet, hoping for the treat of tinned food.

“I don’t even know how to cook more than 2 minute noodles.” Yuri explained. “And I don’t know any sixteen year old boy who can cook anything more than that without burning it.”

Max was still in his crouch, but brought a hand up to rub his head like he was trying to rub something out of it. He stood, hooking thumbs into his pockets, shoulders slumped.

“I’m home alone a lot. I taught myself.” He said simply.

There was the heavy, full kind of silence that happens when a lot of things are not being said.

Eventually, Yuri slumped his shoulders in defeat. Two people on the same day, persuading him to do things that were completely not his idea.

“So,” he said slowly, “if I hire you, on a part time basis, I’m not going to have some angry mom or dad coming in her demanding what vie been doing with their son after school?”

Max’s look of brief delight morphed into disgust. “Dude, ew.”

Yuri pointed a finger at him. “Fuck off. It happens and I don’t want that kind of shit in my life or my shop. Do you need to get permission from your parents to work here?”

Max shrugged. “No. I’ll tell em though, if you want.”

“Yes, I want.” Yuri said, rubbing his face. “More than I want a kid working in my shop.”

“You hear that, Sim?” Max said, picking Simba up under his arms and lifting him to eye height. “You’re going to be seeing me more often.”

“We will work out times, cos I sure as hell don’t want you under my feet all day, every day.” Yuri said, picking up and handing the broom back to him. “But since you’re here now, go and sweep. Go.”

As Max sauntered off, looking far too happy for someone who had basically signed up for hard labour, Yuri scratched under Biscuit’s chin distractedly, wondering all his ‘ _ No’s _ ’ lately had turned into ‘ _ Yes _ ’es.

“No more strays, ok?” he said to the cat, who stretched his neck out willingly to gain more friction.

-8-

“So Phichit rents the shop next to yours, but he lives,” Otabek looked up and up some more at the face brick suburban dream he and Yuri approached. “Here.”

“I would ask him where he gets his money, but I don’t care enough.” Yuri responded, but his eyes were just as wide. He’d know Phichit had surplus cash, obviously, since his shop didn’t do so well he could afford to rent, employ and own a damn house in upper middle class suburbia.

“So, you’ve never been here?” Otabek asked as they ascended the porch steps in unconscious unison.

“nope.” Yuri said enunciating the consonants.

“But you’ve obviously been invited.” Otabek said knowingly. Yuri didn’t even bother replying, his look said it all, making Otabek chuckle.

“I managed to hold off for three years.” Yuri said, ringing the bell with his free hand, the other holding a bottle of wine he enjoyed. “But apparently I’m getting soft.”

“Maybe.” Otabek replied cryptically, but Yuri ignored the bait determinedly. He’d insisted that Otabek meet him there, refusing a ride on the bike, because the idea of wrapping his arms around the mans’ leather clad body was a little too much for him at present.

Phichit ripped the door open, looking very slightly manic.

“Yuri! Otabek!” He said their names like shooting them out of a gun. “You’re late, Seung-gil and Viktor are already here!”

Yuri pushed into the house even though he’d never been there. “I told you I could come after closing. Calm the fuck down.” The last he said sotto voice.

“Sorry sorry, but he’s been here for half an hour and hasn’t said a word!” Phichit hissed at him, looking desperate.

“Sounds like normal behaviour then.” Yuri answered, shucking his jacket and handing it to Phichit. “Have you poured booze? That usually loosens people up.”

“He doesn’t drink.” Phichit revealed like it was the sink hole in his whole plan, taking the jacket. “He told me when I offered him beer.”

“God, if you’re going to be this wound up the whole night, I’m leaving.” Yuri said to him, then darted a look at Otabek. “You can stay here and watch this one sided telenovela unfold.”

“cruel.” Otabek smirked.

“You’d survive.”

“Ugh, you’re right, I’m going to go upstairs and take a breather. Hold the fort.” Phichit said, sweeping past them and up the stairs, dumping their jackets on the banister as he went, leaving them to find their way inside on their own.

“I can’t believe he’s so wound.” Otabek observed, amused.

“Not everyone is as smooth as you.” Yuri pointed out.

“I was nervous, I just hid it well.”

“Did you need alcohol?”

“Ha! No.”

I do, Yuri thought to himself, walking into the adjoining room, which led to the lounge area. Viktor waved at him, looking a little strained but pleased to see him. Greeting were exchanged with bare sensibility and Yuri took the seat next to Viktor, forcing Otabek to use the armchair. Phichit’s house was like him; bright, somewhat cluttered and mildly bohemian, art of every genre hung on the walls, with expensive bric-a-brac decorating the surfaces. It was interesting, to someone who was nosy, which Yuri wasn’t feeling at that moment. Phichit wasn’t the only one who’d been a little tense over tonight dinner.

After two minutes of difficult small talk, Yuri gave in and went to hunt for a wine glass from the liquor cabinet set in the corner.

“Anyone else?” He offered, eyeing them all.

“I’ll have a glass.” Viktor replied gratefully.

“Me too.” Seung-gil added and Yuri stalled.

“Phichit said…you didn’t drink?”

“I never said that.” He replied, “I like red wine.”

The man’s face barely moved, even when he talked and Yuri shrugged. “Ok then. Otabek?”

Otabek shook his head. “I prefer beer.”

“I have beer.” Phichit’s voice chimed in and they turned to see him looking a determined, and damp. Yuri imagined he had washed his face. “I have wine too. Why didn’t you say Seung-gil?”

“You didn’t ask? You just offered me beer.” The man replied and Yuri stifled a snort.

“Well, I have plenty.” Phichit said, recovering elegantly from his derailment. “We can move to the dining room then, foods ready.”

Otabek caught Yuri’s eye as they followed him over, and he knew Otabek was thinking the same thing; like they were suck in a bad comedy.

“He’s trying too hard.” Otabek whispered, his breathe tickling Yuri’s neck.

“He’s never had to try before, that’s why.” Yuri replied as quietly. “Which is also why I poured him a glass. He had better have more, since I’ve finished the bottle now.”

Dinner started off stilted and weird, and Yuri finished his first glass off too quickly. But once he and Phichit were on their third glass each in less than forty minutes, Yuri ceased to care.

“This food is good, Phichit.” He said, adding another forkful to his mouth. “What is this?”

“Thai green curry.” Phichit replied, with a flourish. “It’s actually really easy to make. My mother taught me when I was but a babe.”

“And here I was thinking you knew shit about cooking.” Yuri said acerbically.

Phichit sipped at his wine. “Not my fault you just assumed.”

“I make Thai green curry sometimes.” Otabek said. “It doesn’t taste like this though, this is creamier.”

“Do you use coconut milk or cream? Also, be careful which brand you buy, it makes such a difference.”

“Coconuts have milk in them?” Viktor asked, his glass still half full but Viktor had never needed booze to loosen up if he felt like it. Phichit pointed a finger at him.

“See, now it’s obvious you don’t cook. Or do groceries. That’s like, a basic kitchen ingredient.” He said with a mocking tilt to his head, dark hair swinging over his forehead.

“Well, Yuuri, does the cooking when we’re at home.” Viktor defended.

“Beautiful husbands cooking for their beautiful husbands.” Phichit sighed. “My dream life.”

“My father used to cook every night, my mother never cooked. He taught me.” Seung-gil added, voice quiet, with the tone of mild interest. Immediately all attention turned to him, the man who’d barely put two sentences together the entire evening thus far.

“That sounds like a good memory.” Phichit said eventually, leaning immediately towards him at the head of the table. Phichit had had considerably more wine than food in his belly, and his eyes were a little brighter than normal.

“He’s still alive.” Seung-gil replied to him,” he’s not dead.”

“No! I didn’t mean-“Phichit started.

“Where are you from Seung-gil?” Otabek interjected, staving off Phichit fresh launch into awkwardness.

“South Korea.” He replied turning his stoic attention to him.

“Ah I thought I recognised the accent.” Viktor added.

“Do you know someone from there?” Seung-gil asked politely.

“Several actually. I have many different nationalities in my circle.” Viktor replied.

“Viktor used to be an international figure skater.” Phichit informed him. “He’s retired now, but he and his husband are still involved in that world.”

“That’s very interesting.” Seung-gil said, looking like it really wasn’t interesting at all. “What do you do now?”

Since everyone apart from Phichit had accepted that Seung-gil had a permanent Botox thing happening, Viktor didn’t mind launching into a discussion about his choreography career and skilfully included Phichit in the conversation. Yuri listened absently, feeling warmly relaxed, then realised his glass was empty again. He got up to find the liquor cabinet again, since the wine bottle on the table at present was empty, and he needed a refill.

He was working at the cork when he sensed Otabek behind him. He sighed and handed it over.

“Oh good. Make yourself useful.” He said, and Otabek took it without a word. He pulled the cork out with a controlled pop before handing it back.

“thanks.” Yuri muttered pouring himself another glass, a little too close to the brim.

“Are you ok?” Otabek asked.

“Hmm?” Yuri said, turning. “Yeah, why?”

“You’re…on your fourth glass.” Otabek pointed out. “In less than an hour. I just thought I would ask.”

“Well, I don’t usually drink, but it was the only way I was going to get through this evening, that’s for sure. Thanks for asking though.” Yuri winked. “You’re so cute.”

Otabek blinked at him. “Do you mean the awkward Phichit debacle in there? Or something else?”

Yuri took a deep sip from the glass, and wondered over to the sound system. The music had been playing at a soft background level, and he swayed lightly to the current notes, not recognising them but feeling loose enough not to care.

“Well, mostly that, but a little something else.” He admitted.

“Is it something to do with me?”

Yuri looked to the man standing a little ways away, and seeing the concerned expression on his face, felt the instant desire to rush forward to wipe it off. Since his inhibitions were on holiday, he did, touching the smooth line of his chin, feeling the stubble only recently shaved but already regrowing.

“Aw, sweet sexy baker boy, no its not you. Well it is you, but it’s not you. It’s me, it’s always me.”

Otabek’s face creased. “What? Why is it you? You’re perfect.”

“Oh my god.” Yuri said, resting his head against Otabek’s chest for a moment. “You are just… Ugh, stop saying things like that. I’m already done for.”

“Yuri-“

“No it’s always me. I’m not perfect” Yuri said, then halted. “Wait, well, I mean that I’m not like that. Perfect. The way people want me to be perfect.”

Otabek mouth lifted one the one side, in the adorable half-smile that just made him so fucking handsome Yuri could die. “I think you’re a little drunk.”

“I’m fine.” Yuri waved him off. “It just always goes south you know?”

“I do?”

“You know,” Yuri waggled his eyebrows in a way he would regret recalling in the morning. “In the bedroom.”

Otabek was obviously nonplussed. “Uh...isn’t that how it’s supposed to go…?”

Yuri laughed aloud. “Ha! Yes, but it’s always on me you see? Guys look at me and they think, ‘ _ oh look at this cute little uke, such a cute bottom, I wanna take him home, oh yes _ .”

“What’s a  _ uke _ ?”

“Someone obviously doesn’t read Yaoi.” Yuri thought then realised he’d said aloud. “But then when it comes to the sheets, and it turns out I’m not a bottom, well, then its ‘ _ oh sorry, my bad, was a misunderstanding, please don’t take it the wrong way _ .”

“What?” Otabek said with a laugh.

“I mean, is it my fault that I don’t have chest hair? Is it my fault I’m pretty and short?” Yuri said, waving his glass about and only just stopping the glass from spilling he solved the issue by drinking some more. “Apparently, if you’re cute you’re not allowed to be a top, right? I mean, I don’t mind switching every now and then, but I think it’s unfair to expect me to bottom just because they call themselves a top. I mean, look at these abs,” Yuri said, using his free hand to lift his shirt, showing off the musculature he worked very hard to keep present. “These aren’t for nothing you know.”

Otabek’s ears were pink as he looked. Swallowing he said, “Yup. Nice.”

“And so I just don’t date you know?” Yuri said, coming closer, fingers reaching for the waist-band of Otabek’s jeans and threading through the loops. “Guys don’t like it when I do this.” He yanked, pulling the man close, the letting his hand travel upwards underneath the cotton shirt, loving the warm softness of his skin. “Or this. Hmm, just like I imagined.”

Still holding his glass, he let his free hand find the jut of Otabek’s hip bone, silently thankful for men who stayed in shape just because they wanted to, and pressed his thumb into the soft pocket just beside it. “I mean, i love this, all of this. I like these little spaces in a person’s body you know. I’m not slutty but I can’t stop thinking about how you taste, or what sounds you make…” yuri murmured tipsily, nosing under Otabek’s chin and breathing in. “finding your spots.” 

“Ah..” Otabek said, his voice having a slight wobble to it. “Yuri…”

He let go, throwing his hand into the air in surrender. “So I’ll just wait for you to figure it out too, and then you’ll make some shallow excuse and fuck off too. Which will be so sucky because I  _ really _ like you. And I haven’t even had a ride on your bike yet. Or you, ha.”

Yuri tilted his head back, swigging the last of the red liquid down his throat, and then laying the glass down on the mantelpiece with a decisive click.

“I need the bathroom. Think I drank too much.” He said, before going to find it and leaving Otabek standing in the lounge, with his jaw hanging.

 


	9. Happy Surprises

For the second time in two weeks, Yuri woke up with the mother of all headaches. Except this time, it was his fault.

 

“Oooooh my God,” he groaned, clutching at his head and turning over in bed, hiding his head beneath a pillow.

 

“Ah, the princess awakens,” Viktor’s cheery voice called from the kitchen. Soon after, his silver head peeked around the piece of hardboard that served to separate Yuri’s bedroom from the rest of the loft. “Does your royal highness require coffee?”

 

“What time is it?” Yuri growled.

 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Viktor said. “It’s past your wake up time, but since this is my last day here, I went to open the door for deliveries this morning. Count your blessings.”

 

Yuri did not feel very blessed just then. What he did feel was regret - lots of it. Hauling himself out of bed only increased the sensation. He stumbled over to the shower with his eyes mostly closed, yelped when he stepped into too hot shower water, and cursed while adjusting it. Eventually, the steam did its work of making him feeling slightly less like a truck ran over him slowly. He opened his mouth to rinse it, since it tasted like a cat tray and tried to remember what deliveries he was expecting that day. Cat food guy came on Fridays, and he was pretty sure it was Saturday, wasn’t it? So that left Arnold to collect the recycling and Otabek with…

 

“Oh my goooddddd-” Yuri whined to himself, butting his head against the wall. “ Did I really say…?”

 

But now that the pandora’s box of his memories had been nudged it willingly spilled its contents, in excruciating detail. Yuri had never been the type to forget what happened when he was drunk. No, he recalled every single thing… He clapped a hand to his mouth as if he could somehow retroactively stop the words leaving his mouth. He was suddenly so incredibly grateful Viktor had opened up for him, because if he’d had to face Otabek this morning he would have incinerated himself with shame.

 

He made it to the kitchen, eyes on the floor as if the whole world knew about his horrible spectacle, and Viktor chuckled.

 

“Wine is a pretty girlfriend, but you don’t want to wake up with her.”

 

“What the fuck kind of expression is that?” Yuri growled, snatching at the coffee and walking away. “I’ll pay for your taxi to the airport.”

 

Viktor laugh followed him down the stairs, where Max was already present. Oh right, it was Saturday.

“Morning Boss,” he greeted cheerfully.

 

“Morning,” Yuri mumbled.

 

“Oooh, someone is hung  _ over _ ,” Max sang and it was only through herculean force of will that Yuri didn’t turn around and fire him right there.

 

“Is there anyone out front?” he asked through gritted teeth, warning in his face.

 

“Just Mr. Chulanont,” Max replied, while unpacking loaves of fresh bread and ciabatta.

 

Yuri almost, but not quite, turned around and went back upstairs to continue hiding under his pillow. But he felt Ashes curling softly around his ankles and he decided to just face the day instead.

 

“Don’t,” he said before Phichit could even leak one word from his mouth.

 

“Don’t what?” Phichit replied, perplexed, as Yuri went to the wall switch to turn the essentials on again. Finding it already done only made him more irritated.  _ This _ was why he hadn’t hired anyone before. He didn’t  _ need _ anyone dammit, there wasn’t enough to  _ do _ .

 

“Anything,” Yuri snapped. “Breathing.”

 

“Well, someone is feeling chipper this morning,” Phichit said, only mildly peeved. “I didn’t tell you to drink the equivalent of a bottle by yourself, you know.”

 

“Ugh.” Yuri knew it wasn’t Phichit’s fault, and that all his spilled words the night before weren’t either, but he was still hungover. “At least tell me it was worth it. Did you ask Mr. Stone Face out already?”

 

Phichit sighed. “Well, no. But we actually talked. I know some things about him now. Did you know he has a dog? A husky?”

 

Yuri glared at him with all his morning after, hungover anti-glow. “Oh joy. So happy for you. Now go away.”

 

Phichit decided retreat just then was best. “Um, yes, I think I will. I’ll come back when you’ve had more than one coffee.”

 

Yuri only growled at his back, going to take the chairs off the tables. When he checked his phone, he saw several unread messages from the night before and early morning.

 

**BB** :  _ hey…you ok? You were really out of it last night _ .

**BB** :  _ I think….we need to talk. Can I come by later? _

**Annoying Thai guy** :  _ why is Otabek asking me about  _ **_ukes_ ** _ and  _ **_semes_ ** _? He spelled it ‘yooki’ btw. _

 

“Oh Gooood,” Yuri moaned, collapsing backwards into a chair and putting his head between his legs. Max came out to see if he was ok, and Yuri waved him off.

 

“If I throw up, it’s your job to clean it now,” Yuri shot at him. Max disappeared quickly, but Ashes was still there, meowing for petting.

 

**BB** :  _ after the shop closes? _

-8-

  
  


The day had been very long. It was  made longer by the fact that he hasn’t replied to any of the messages on his phone, gotten curious looks from Viktor and Max, saying goodbye to his cousin, and having to run the shop on his busiest day. Even with Max’s help, it was work.

 

That, and he knew Otabek was at the end of it, so he nursed his little ball of horrified self humiliation in private as the hours dragged on. He’d already stashed his cellphone between the napkins and the wall of the coffee machine, hoping that out of sight meant out of mind. But as the clocked ticked both too fast and too slow, the dread grew fatter in Yuri’s belly until he forced himself to turn the sign from ‘open’ to ‘closed.’ He then retreated the the kitchen for the evening’s feeding. Since Otabek had been using the back door the last few days, it was a bit like walking into a lion’s cave. He was expecting the knock when it came, but he still flinched.

 

“Hey,” he said with a wobbly smile when Otabek stood on the other side of it.

 

“Hey.” The baker smiled, still warm and open and instantly setting Yuri slightly at ease. But only slightly.

 

Otabek stepped in without asking, fitting into the backdrop of Yuri’s life easily, and bending down to pet the nearest feline at that moment, Oreo. Since he was eating, it didn’t merit any reaction at all.

 

“Good day?”

 

“Well, Viktor left around lunchtime, but other than that, same old story,” Yuri replied, slowly coming closer.

 

“And max? How’s he working out?”

This time Yuri turned his eyes heavenward. “Yeah, he’s…unexpectedly good. Still a little too smug about wheedling himself in here, but the cats like him. “I’m teaching him how to make coffee that doesn’t look or taste like bitter mud.”

 

“He’s really willing though,” Otabek said, standing up again, slotting his hands into his jacket pockets. “He even said he’d help me with my deliveries if I needed it.”

 

“I don’t know, that kid has a whole lot of stuff he isn’t telling me,” Yuri said distractedly. “He isn’t strapped for cash, that’s for sure.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

“He’s come here a few times, from school,” Yuri said, leaning against the tabletop, staring at the floor. “I recognised the emblem from his jacket - it’s that private school near the National Gallery.”

 

“He could be a scholarship kid though,” Otabek said, shooting a quizzical look at Yuri.

 

“A scholarship kid who wears Nike, Adidas, Puma?” Yuri snorted. “I don’t think scholarships cover fashion.”

 

“That’s a good point,” Otabek said, and he reversed until he could lift himself up onto the countertop opposite Yuri. “Have you ever asked him?”

 

“The only reason I tolerate the kid is because he isn’t wordy,” Yuri told him. “We don’t chat.”

 

“Noted,” Otabek replied with a half grin. “On the topic of chatting…”

 

The cold stone of dread in Yuri’s stomach, which had been growing a little lighter, dropped again. “Um.”

 

“So last night… How much do you remember?”

 

Yuri could lie. He knew he could, it would be simple, and allow him to salvage at least some of his dignity. But Yuri wasn’t good at lying, because he didn’t like doing it. Little white lies were one thing, but this was something important. Even if he had been drunk, it had truth. And lies were something you couldn’t come back from, not really. They just became burdens, and even if things were going nowhere with Otabek, he could at least do it on sincere terms.

 

He drew a deep breath to steel his nerves. “If you’re talking about what I said with a bottle of wine in my system…yes. I remember. And I’m sorry for…ugh, saying it and coming onto you like a dog in heat.”

Yuri saw no point in hiding his furious blush, but he bit his lip, the slight sting of pain a small symptom of his regret.

 

“Ah,” Otabek said, nodding at the floor. “So yeah, you remember. I thought you might have, since you haven’t replied to any of my messages.”

 

“I woke up with a hangover to rival hangovers, and when I remembered last night… I am sorry, Otabek. That was out of line. I’ve been dying inside all day.”

 

Otabek shot him a quick shy look from under his eyebrows. “Oh? Um…well. You know, I didn’t mind. Everyone gets drunk sometimes.”

 

“Still,” Yuri said, sighing and folding his arms tight against his chest.

 

“So…” Otabek went on hesitantly. “Did you…mean all of that? What you said?”

 

“Yup,” Yuri replied quickly. “Obviously, I don’t usually come out and tell guys that kind of thing, but it’s…true. I haven’t had good experiences in the past concerning that.”

 

“Did something happen?” Otabek asked quietly, attentive. Yuri shrugged.

 

“One thing? No. Several things, several different times? Sure,” he said, deciding he also wanted to be seated and perched himself on the table top, forcing Quincy to scooch over with an irritated growl.

 

“This one guy used to insist that I was wrong, that I was obviously a bottom. I slept with him once, but when I suggested we switch, he just laughed and said I was adorable. Another guy said he didn’t mind switching, then dumped me after we slept together.” Yuri’s voice was bored, this was old news. “Another guy tried to force me, kept calling me a twink.”

 

“You’re kidding.” Otabek’s face was horrified.

 

“Don’t worry about it, I’m pretty sure he only has one testicle now, after what I did to him. That moron,” Yuri assured. “Anyway, the point is, I’m just…used to being let down. And… I think I’ve been holding out because I knew you didn’t know, and I just…I really like you. I haven’t really liked anyone in a while and I just wanted it to last just a little longer, before you figured it out.”

 

“Yuri…” Otabek said, tapping his fingers on the surface beside him.

 

“It’s ok,” Yuri said, hoping his generosity would cover his disappointment. “I know that some people just don’t…want to switch.”

 

“No, Yuri. Just no.”

Yuri slipped off the counter, swallowing hard. “Anyway, that’s over with, so we can sort of go on with our lives-”

 

“Yuri. It’s ok,”Otabek interrupted, and Yuri heard his boots hit the floor, but he didn’t feel ready enough to look him in the face.

 

“Sure,” Yuri nodded automatically.

 

“Yuri, can I just talk? It doesn’t bother me!”

 

Yuri paused in his useless fidgeting with cat crockery. “Hmm?”

 

Otabek came within his line of sight and Yuri took a fast step backwards in surprise. “Can I speak?”

 

“Uh...” Yuri was feeling a little side-lined from the sudden intensity in Otabek’s face. “Sure?”

 

Otabek’s expression was determined, and he nibbled a little at the inside of his cheek before starting. “Ok, firstly, I will be honest. You definitely came off as a bottom the first time I met you. But that’s not why I liked you. And anyway, after we kissed… Well, it changed my mind completely.”

 

“Wait, what?”

 

“You have a very forceful kiss. Anyway, like I was saying, I went and looked up Uke’s by the way. And I had to ask Phichit which was a conversation he enjoyed far too much in my opinion. But no, I don’t see you that way. At all. On that topic though; you read Japanese gay porn?”

 

“I used to.” Yuri clung to the only buoy in the sea. “In my teens. Let’s make that clear.”

 

“Ok, it’s clear,” Otabek chuckled. “Also, those guys you were telling me about sound like assholes, and they were wrong. You shouldn’t be made to feel like you’re ashamed just cos you don’t fit someone else’s idea of what they think you should be.”

 

“I don’t,” Yuri replied, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He didn’t have self-respect issues, but it was sweet that Otabek was on his side if he did.

 

“I’m not like that. If I tell you I don’t mind switching, I’m not lying just to get you into bed.”

 

“Hold on.”

 

“And I don’t mind. Switching.” Otabek said, looking slightly breathless and ears pink. “I…just like you. And I want to be with you, however that is.”

Yuri had to hold out a hand to Otabek’s chest, because he’d inched closer and closer to Yuri during his speech. “Just wait. What now?”

 

“Um, what didn’t you get? I can go over it again.”

 

“You,” Yuri said, tapping a finger against the firm chest in front of him. “Taller, muscular biker guy - don’t mind being on the bottom?”

 

Otabek closed his eyes, shaking his head with a small embarrassed laugh. “I don’t mind, if it’s with you.”

 

“That makes it sound like you’re only doing it for me.” Yuri frowned.

 

“No, it means that I like you. If you wanted me to top, I would. If you wanted not have sex at all, that would be…difficult but fine. Because I really like you, and I want to see where this goes.”

 

Yuri stared, head tilted up and still disbelieving. “How are you even real?”

 

“I’ve been thinking the same thing since I met you,” Otabek replied.

 

“Do I really kiss forcefully?” Yuri asked, feeling a little winded and very aware of the slight small gap of air between him and the baker.

 

“Can I kiss you again and answer then?” Otabek asked, eyes aglitter and already leaning down.

 

Yuri didn’t bother answering, laughing into the kiss with renewed fervour, uncaring if it was forceful or not.

 

“You had better not be lying to me.” He panted against Otabek’s mouth when they broke free for snatched air.

 

“I’m not,” Otabek replied, just as winded. “If I am, you can set your cats on me.”

 

“I have this bed, upstairs. It’s a good bed.”

 

“And so convenient.”

 

Walking backwards up the stairs, while kissing a gorgeous guy was not something Yuri was unfamiliar with, but Otabek almost tripped twice before Yuri just yanked him up by the collar of his jacket.

-8-

  
  


Yuri cracked the window of the bathroom while sitting on the toilet cistern and blew his smoke out of the window, waving away the few tendrils that hadn’t made it out. He tapped ash into the small ash bucket on the sill just outside the window’s frame, keeping his hand hanging out into the brisk morning air.

 

He felt good. Pretty damn good. Notwithstanding that he’d woke the previous morning with the worst hangover, this was a good morning.

 

He smiled stupidly to himself as he drew on the stick again, while Crunchy sat behind him playing with the ends of his hair.

 

“I got sunshine…” he hummed off key because he never could sing, but it felt so appropriate he didn’t care.

 

“Now there’s something I didn’t guess.”

 

Yuri nearly fell off the toilet cistern, jerking hard enough to scare Crunchy who leapt off and dashed out of the bathroom like his tail was on fire. Yuri looked guiltily up at Otabek, who was leaning against the door frame wearing…nothing. Yuri couldn’t help his eyes giving him a slow once over; he hadn’t been able to really get a good look the night before.

 

“Morning?” he tried.

 

“You smoke?”

 

“Um…” Yuri’s eyes darted guiltily at the cigarette still in his hand. “No. Well, yes. Only…after sex.”

 

Otabek kept his gaze for several moments before bursting out laughing. “That’s so cliché.”

 

“You should know,” Yuri added, relaxing again. “that I haven’t had one of these in a while.”

 

Otabke walked up beside him, and took the stick from his fingers, before slotting it between his own lips. “I wouldn’t mind if you had. This one is because of me, so.”

 

Yuri quirked at eyebrow at the cheeky bastard who’d stolen his cigarette and stole it back. “So you smoke too?”

 

“Only after mind-blowing sex.”

Yuri blushed, astoundingly. “Ok.”

 

“Hey,” Otabek said, leaning down to get in Yuri’s line of sight. “What’s wrong now?”

 

“Did you really enjoy it though?” Yuri asked quietly, tapping the ash again.

 

“Yuri, yes.” Otabek laughed. “Yes I really did. You know what you’re doing.”

 

“yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” Otabek assured. “It was hot.”

 

Yuri’s mind was bubbling over. He was happy, anxious and still replete from good sex. But mostly, he just couldn’t believe he was so into a guy who was so into him. And that he was still there the morning after.

 

“You’re not sore?” he tested again.

 

“Yuri,” Otabek said firmly, touching his chin and tilting it up. “Stop second guessing this. You wanna go again? I’m up for round four.”

 

Yuri couldn’t help but smile. “Is that right?”

 

“Whatever you wanna do.” Otabek’s smile was warmer that coffee on winter mornings, filling him up from the inside out. “I am really into you.”

 

“You know,” Yuri said, stubbing out the cig and standing. “I don’t mind switching…sometimes.”

 

The blush that it brought to Otabek’s neck made Yuri want to bite him all over again. “Yeah?”

 

“Sometimes,” Yuri replied, his fingers already tracing the raised marks left there from the night before. He bit an already purpling hickey on his neck, thinking bendy thoughts…

 

“Yuri!” a high pitched voice yelled, making Yuri freeze. “Do you know there are clothes all over your stairway?”

 

Yuri bumped his head against Otabek’s sternum. “I love it when annoying neighbors show up for the after glow.”

 

“He has…very specific timing, doesn’t he,” Otabek answered, his tone somewhere between amused and exasperated.

“I’ll get rid of him. It’s my day off, goddamit.”

 

Yuri strode into the kitchen, partly annoyed, partly frustrated, partly turned on and determined to get rid of the unwelcome guests and remember to lock his damned door more often.

 

“Phichit, this is not how it works,” Yuri started. “You are not a vampire. Just because i invited you in once, does not mean it’s a free ticket to show up whenever you damn well please.” He ended his statement as he walked right up to Pichit, who was standing by his kitchen island, perusing the fruit bowl. He glanced up, as if he was surprised at Yuri’s tone.

 

“I needed a cup of sugar,” Phichit lied outright. “Also I saw a bike outside. Are those purple tiger print briefs? You shock me, Yuri. Where did… Oh.”

 

Phichit’s eyes grew round and his jaw dropped, and Yuri followed his gaze. Otabek had come out of the bathroom, was standing in the open plan living area, still wearing his birthday suit.

 

“Morning,” he said cheerfully, waving a hand.

 

Pichit wordlessly waved back, eyes fixed on Otabek. Yuri knew the feeling, but it was still unnerving that Phichit was feasting off the vision that was Otabek’s toned physique without any kind of reserve.

 

“You wanna put on some clothes maybe?” Yuri asked, strangling his laughter.

 

Otabek shrugged. “Why? Is it cold today?”

 

“Ah…nope,” Yuri said. Even if Otabek was putting on a show for Phichit, he didn’t actually mind per se, Otabek being naked in his loft. If the man didn’t care, then who was Yuri to tell him otherwise? He turned back to Phichit.

 

“As you can see, I’m busy right now,” he pointed out, with exaggerated politeness. “Time to go.”

 

“Um…” Phichit was  _ still _ staring, even craning his neck to see around Yuri.

 

“Bye,” Yuri said, turning him around and forcing him back out the door, closing it hard and flipping the lock. Then he turned back to Otabek who was grinning wide.

 

“Really?”

 

“Ok, but have you ever actually seen him speechless?”

Yuri had to admit he hadn’t. But still. “You know he won’t stop bothering us about this now. And he’s probably going to doodling dicks all over his receipts too.”

 

“I’m ok with that,” Otabek acknowledged, letting Yuri come into his arms and push him backwards towards the bedroom.

 

“He’s going to drive me up the fucking wall…” Yuri said, not caring at all. “You owe me.”

 

“Put it on my tab.”

  
  


Epilogue

Yuri sat straight up in bed, awake because of a sound that he hadn’t quite heard.

 

“What is it?” Otabek rumbled sleepily next to him.

 

“I heard something,” he said quietly. “I think.”

 

Otabek sat up, still foggy but alert on Yuri’s behalf, and Ashes complained a little when he slid off his back. Otabek spent at least four nights out of seven at Yuri’s place. Over the last five months, the cats had become quite used to him, and he them.  So much used to him that when he and Yuri would crawl into bed together, and when the sheets had stopped moving, the cats simply made themselves comfortable in whatever spaces were left over. They seemed to prefer Otabek, in these colder months, since he always ran so hot.

 

“What did you hear?” he asked, groggy and eyes still closed. Yuri patted his shoulder.

 

“It’s ok, babe. Go back to sleep.”

 

“Where you goin’?”

 

“Just gonna check downstairs. It’s ok, I’ll be right back.”

 

Otabek hummed but burrowed back into the covers as Yuri stepped lightly onto the hardwood. He hadn’t expected company, but when Biscuit followed him through the door, he was pleased. He didn’t know what he had heard, but it was the middle of the night, and something had woken him up. Not a burglar, there no sense of the edges of his awareness being pricked. It was something… small. He stopped at the bottom of the stairway, listening to the quiet.

 

Then Biscuit’s posture changed from curious to alert.

“You heard it too, huh?” he said softly, making his way to the delivery door. There it was again, a tiny sound that was almost not a sound at all, just a disturbance in the air. But he had definitely heard it. He turned the switch quietly, his four pawed partner following him outside into the chilly night, and Yuri wished had fur.

 

Luckily, Biscuit went straight towards the large green dumpster against the opposite wall. Or at least, under it. Then he crouched, intent on whatever it was beneath that and Yuri groaned. He didn’t even want to think about the accumulation of dirt, garbage juice and rot underneath that thing but he went, rubbing his bare arms.

 

“What is it, baby?” he murmured, squatting down and bending his head to look where Biscuit was. It was too dark to see from that angle, so he gingerly put his hands down onto the tarmac, kneeling into the hard ground and bending closer.

 

“Shit, you’re a sight,” he said.

 

Just there, smaller than his fist and meowing at him with the tiniest, feeblest whine he’d ever heard, was a kitten. Well, he was almost totally certain it was a kitten. It probably wasn’t a rat; rats took better care of themselves. Slowly, he reached a hand out, murmuring softly towards it, and was rewarded with a slash of needle sharp claws. He flinched a little but didn’t pull away.

 

“I’m trying to help you, rat,” he said, finally getting close enough to grab its neck and pull it out. “Let’s get inside before I freeze.”

 

Curling his arm around the small body that was little more than bones in a furry bag, he hustled back inside as fast as possible, Biscuit on his heels and mewling up at the package he carried. He dashed in, locking doors behind him as he went and upstairs, making a beeline for the bathroom. When he finally switched the light on, and got a good look at the creature, he wrinkled his nose.

 

The kitten looked less than five weeks old. It was that small and skinny, eyes too big for its face, fur matted and filthy. It screeched at him weakly, barely a sound peeping out of its throat, and Yuri melted a little.

 

“I have enough cats,” he mumbled to himself. Biscuit leapt onto the toilet cistern to get a better look and Yuri sighed, turning the hot water tap on in the sink. He would have to wash it at least, the poor, bedraggled thing. Then he thought about whether he had any kitten formula left in the cupboard and what the expiry date was on the thing is there was.

 

“What’s going on?” Otabek’s sleepy voice asked and Yuri glanced over at him.

 

“I found the thing.”

“What thing?”

 

He came over, blinking in the bright light and squinted.

 

“Is that a rat?”

 

“I’m pretty sure it’s a kitten,” Yuri said. “Found it under the dumpster.”

 

The sink had filled with lukewarm water that Yuri tested with his wrist, then he carefully lowered the creature into it, while it struggled weakly.

 

“You heard it all the way from here?” Otabek marvelled but Yuri wasn’t paying attention. 

 

The kitten was too young to be on its own. Far too young, it must have been separated from its mother, probably a stray. If it wasn’t already riddled with disease, it would have died from malnutrition. Yuri’s heart squeezed. His fingers were gentle as he smoothes out the lumps of matter from its fur, turning the water dusty and grey. Eventually, the small thing stopped struggling and rested in his palm, its legs threaded through his fingers. Biscuit set his front paws on the edge of the bowl, and leaned as closely as he could, sniffing curiously at it.

 

“Is it ok?” Otabek asked.

 

“It’s probably starving. It’s way too young to be on its own.” Yuri said softly, dribbling water over its back.

 

“Not your first rescue, huh?”

 

“Not even close,” he answered. “Hand me that towel?”

 

Otabek held the towel open so Yuri could place the kitten in its centre, and wrap it carefully while rubbing it gently to dry. Then they left the bathroom, Otabek directing the distracted Yuri back to bed.

 

“You’re freezing,” he commented, as Yuri folded him back under the covers, still cradling the new arrival. Biscuit immediately hopped up, poking his nose directly into the small space Yuri had left open for the kitten’s head to breathe. Yuri let him, since Biscuit was the one who’d found it after all. It took a few moments before Biscuit started licking at its tiny, fragile head, smoothing out shiny black fur.

 

“Can you hold it for a sec? I need to see if I’ve got some milk,” he said to Otabek, who took the bundle without protest, Biscuit following the transfer.

Turned out he did have some left from Simba, that was just this side of the expiry date. After fishing around in several drawers, he found all the pieces of a syringe. When he came back to the bed, formula in hand, he saw Otabek sitting cross legged. The towel in front of him was opened a bit more because how both Ashes and Biscuit were playing mother to the ball of fluff inside it. Otabek shrugged.

 

“They insisted.”

 

“It’s ok. It’s good,” Yuri assured, thankful for his little fur family. They had cleaned off whatever he hadn’t been able to, and dried the thing better than he would have. Lifting it carefully, he settled it back into the palm of his hand and held the tip of the syringe to its mouth. It took a little coaxing, with Biscuit and Ashes nuzzling at it encouragingly, but eventually it realised it was being fed and started to lap at the dribbling milk messily.

 

“He’s starving,” Yuri said.

 

“She,” Otabek corrected.

 

“What?”

 

“It’s a she. I checked.”

 

Yuri stared. He didn’t have any females. He tended to avoid them if he could, or if they came his way he gave them away. But Ashes and Biscuit were purring at her like she was already a part of the family, and he knew he was cornered.

 

“So much for no more strays,” Otabek chuckled, as if he could hear Yuri’s line of thinking. Yuri darted a glare at him.

 

“Yeah well, I did say that all of them are exceptions of one kind of another.”

 

“Including me?” Otabek smiled, snaking a hand around his waist.

 

“Especially you.”

 

The kitten, is temporary nickname being Rat, slept in bed with them that night, passed out and replete. From then on she was always in either the care of Ashes, Biscuit or Max, who insisted on calling her Cassiopeia, because he sat her dappled coat reminded him of a constellation. She never grew very large, but she terrified Crookshanks and regularly stole his food. Her favourite perch was on Max’s head.

 

Unless Otabek was around, then it was his shoulder.

 

Otabek was around quite a lot after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go! I hope you liked it :) Pop me any questions if you got 'em.


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